


it's all coming back to me now

by newsboyz (snowglobegays)



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Canon Era, F/F, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, Jewish Character, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Non-Chronological, Parent Death, Past Relationship(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Violence, World War I, marriage pact
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-07-18 03:04:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 64,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16109459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowglobegays/pseuds/newsboyz
Summary: "Hows about, if when you're 38, you still ain't got anyone, we'll get hitched.""You know that's not legal, pal.""Just make the deal, Davey."





	1. 1917

**Author's Note:**

> hey gamers this is my 1st newsies fic yeehaw! you know how so many people make those pacts that they'll marry each other if they're both single at 40 but that Never Happens? what if it did! we'll get there eventually. this is also largely based on every single song jj or ben fankauser have covered.

The letter came in May. David had just arrived back at his lonely apartment after a long day of teaching bratty children who were antsy for summer when he saw the crisp, white envelope resting in his mailbox. It could really mean one thing.

 

Sarah wept when he told her. Les had already been shipped off in the first round of men who volunteered for the fight, and they rarely heard from him. Sarah would be the only one left if they both died. “I’ll come back,” he promised, but his words echoed with hollow sentiment. 

 

Unmarried men were the first to be drafted. America had just entered the war and morale was low because nobody  _ cared _ that Germany wanted Mexico to invade. Nobody wanted to send their sons and husbands away to fight for a cause they didn’t understand. Men with no families were deemed just worthless enough to rake in and send to death. David wished he wasn’t so different. 

 

Thirty six felt too old and too young at the same time. David couldn’t imagine he would have been any good as a soldier when he was in his twenties; he was t young and restless, but since he hit thirty three he’d been waking up with sore muscles and he couldn’t bend like he used to. But, America took what it could get. 

 

“You could run from the draft,” Sarah begged. “You don’t have to go.”

 

“You know what they’re doing out there in Germany, Sarah. They’re saying the Jews started the war, that they’re takin’ money from soldiers just for the hell of it. I don’t wanna go but I can’t sit here and do nothing. They could be family.” David felt a deep-set sadness in his bones. Doing the right thing always hurt.

 

_ Now is the time to seize the day. _

 

“Curse you and your big heart,” Sarah said. “Come home in one piece, and bring Les with you.”

 

David couldn’t lie to her again. 

 

Saying goodbye hurt more than imaginable. The worst part was that there were boys he wasn’t saying bye to, there were boys, some of  _ his _ boys, who were being forced into the war as well. Spot. Race. Elmer. Albert. Too many were joining David. It didn’t matter how long it had been since they had all been together. Reality crushed him. 

 

Katherine and Crutchie and Sarah held tight onto each other the day the boys left. 

 

“Make sure you come back in one piece, fellas,” Crutchie choked out. “Don’t want none of ya stealin’ my name. One crutch is enough.”

 

“I ain’t lettin’ anything happen to youse guys,” Spot said confidently, but David could see nerves leaking through his bravado. Even in his thirties, Spot liked to act older and stronger than he was. 

 

Race just seemed tired. The way he said “I’ll do my best” was filled with so much despair that David’s heart physically ached. 

 

“You’re more than Davids taking on Goliath,” Katherine reminded them, trying to smile. “You’ve achieved enough. There’s nothing for you to prove. Just come home.”

 

So David boarded a boat alongside the closest friends from his teens without looking back, heading into an unknown land of war and terror. 

 

_ “Aba, are we almost there?” Sarah squeaked, her tiny face pale and her mouth downturned. “I don’t feel so good on here.” _

 

_ “Just a few more days. Should just be a few more days,” Mayer said. He’d told them that for a week.  _

 

_ “I wanna go home,” David whimpered. “I don’t like it. I miss my friends, Aba, why did we have to leave?” He sniffled. “I want to go home.” _

_  
_ _ A wave rocked the boat, and Sarah threw up again. David clutched his mother, and wept for a home he’d never see again.  _

 

Boats brought back unpleasant memories. Remembering having to run away from his home, all his friends and family and people, because people didn’t care for who he was or the shape of his nose or the small blue kippah his mom knitted for him. David spent most of the trip to Europe clutching his stomach and wishing to go home. He felt unbelievably small. 

 

Arriving in France didn’t make David feel any better. He was immediately separated from his boys as drafted men were thrown into different units at random. Spot was lead in the opposite direction of Race, and David watched their hearts break. They could have just seen each other for the last time. 

 

For the last thirteen years of his life, David had been numb. He was eternally unsatisfied with his life, lonely in his one room apartment, frustrated from teaching in scorching heat or blistering cold. Furious at himself for being afraid, furious at  _ him _ for leaving. 

 

David thought of Jack Kelly a lot more in France. He wondered if cowboys in Santa Fe were drafted. No-

 

There was no time for distractions. War raged on. David had to put his full focus on staying alive. He had to get back home. 

 

_ I will be cautious, but I will thrive, I will do anything just to stay alive. _

 

The trenches reeked, planes soared overhead, dropping bombs everywhere, tanks rolled along muddy ground and shook the earth with each blast. Every day was complete chaos, every night was cold and loud. There was no rest. David took a bullet to the forearm one day and the doctor stitched it up and sent him right back out. The fighting never stopped. 

 

Sarah and Katherine wrote to him a few times.  _ We miss you dearly. Women are marching in the street for the right to vote. Wish you were here. Albert wrote us, he and Race are alright. No word from Elmer or Spot. Write soon.  _

 

The thought of picking up a pen was too hard and David never sent anything home. New York was too far away. 

 

One day in the middle of November, there was a fight that changed everything. David was crouched in the trenches, freezing water pooled around his toes, his pants ripped at his shins, exposing his scratches, asking for an infection, when men less than a mile down the line started screaming. “It’s mustard gas!” one man yelled, and there was a sudden scramble to escape the trench. 

 

David grabbed frantically for the gas mask he had picked off the ground just the day before. Lucky find. He felt safe when he pulled it on, but the yellow cloud still approached. “Run!” a familiar voice yelled. “You still gotta run from it!”

 

A stranger also in a mask grabbed David by the wrist and yanked him out of the trench, and together they sprinted away from the gas. But they couldn’t run fast enough. Deep in his lungs, it was like a match was lit, and his chest felt aflame. His throat itched, his head spun, his eyes watered. The stranger looked back when David coughed, and there was fear in his eyes that David had only seen once before. 

 

_ You don’t know nothin’ about jail. Thanks for what you’ve done, but you better get outta here. _

 

David shook away the thought. 

 

“You got a tear in your mask,” the stranger said. “We gotta keep goin’, c’mon pal, we hafta keep going!”

 

Every step was agony but David kept after the stranger. Something about the way he held himself made David trust him with his life. 

 

When David could go no further, and his legs collapsed under him, the yellow cloud had dissipated enough. The stranger whipped off his mask, and…  _ oh. _ David would recognize that face anywhere. He took off his own mask. The stranger’s eyes widened. 

 

Through the burning in his lungs and the blistering of his skin, moments before succumbing to the pain, David smiled and said  _ “Jack.” _


	2. 1899

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me @ myself the whole time writing this- this is crutchie erasure
> 
> uh well i intended for this chapter to go differently but ig that means more chapters to come  
> (also jack may sound douchey here but i'm gonna make up 4 it)

“What’s Santa Fe got that New York ain’t? Tarantulas?”   
  
“Better yet, what’s New York got that Santa Fe ain’t?”   
  
“New York’s got us, and we’re family.”

 

“So Jackie, you in or you out?”

 

Jack slammed down his quarters, grabbed his papers, and that was when David knew. 

 

New York buzzed with the aftermath of the strike. Papers sold faster than any Newsie could buy them, and the end of the day brought heavy pockets and light smiles. The Lodging house was warm and comfortable. Sure, Les still had his arm in a sling, Crutchie still had a black eye and bruises all along his skin, and most of the Newsies were pretty busted up, but life felt good. David had done something worth doing. 

 

But it all felt like nothing as Jack and Katherine snuck up to the roof, just the two of them, and didn’t come back down. 

 

“Come on Les, we gotta get home before Ma worries too much.” David ushered his little brother out while bidding goodnight to the Newsies of New York. “See ya tomorrow, fellas.”

 

“Jacobs, wait.”

 

David turned in the doorway. “Spot?”

 

“Yeah pal, just wanted to say, nice job out there.” Spot smiled and clapped David’s shoulder. “You held down the fort even when Jack didn’t. You’d make a good leader someday.”

 

“Yeah…” David stuttered, “Thanks I guess. Uh, I gotta go though, night Spot.”

 

Spot’s eyes twinkled. He seemed less like the strong Brooklyn leader all of New York was afraid of and more like a teenage boy who’d just won a strike. David smiled back at him. 

 

“Goodnight, David. I’ll tell the Cowboy that you dipped out with the kid.”

 

“I’m sure he’ll be occupied for the rest of the night.” Jealousy seeped into his words. 

  
Spot laughed. “I wouldn’t worry too hard ‘bout them two. Now get outta here.”

 

The door shut behind them and the warmth of winning was replaced with the bitter sting of losing. They’d won the strike, but David had lost Jack. 

 

(Funny, that he thought he had lost Jack that night. No, he didn’t lose Jack until years later. David laughed at himself the night Jack left. He’d been so young, so foolish. He didn’t know real heartbreak yet.)

 

“You really gonna stay by my side, no matter where I go?” Jack asked.

 

Katherine placed her hand over his. Her fingers were cold. “For sure, Cowboy. I’m with you forever.”

 

Something about the night felt wrong. Jack wanted- he didn’t know. He wanted to do exactly what he was doing- looking over nighttime in Manhattan, holding a warm hand, but Katherine didn’t feel right. Her hair was too long, she was too short, too smart, not smart enough, her nose too small, she thought before she spoke. She felt all wrong, but Jack let her rest her hand on his and tried to be happy as the wind blew her hair around all messy. 

 

It didn’t fit. 

 

“Sorry to interrupt ya, but the boys are playin’ a game of poker and I’m gonna rake in some dough if you wants ta join.” Race popped out of nowhere, eyeing their hands resting together.

 

“I wouldn’t mind watching you boys play,” Katherine smiled.

 

“I’m in if Davey’s in,” Jack said.

 

“Ah,” Race frowned. “Davey turned in for the night. Spot said he took the kid and went back to his folks.”

 

“Oh.” Jack didn’t know why David leaving made him so cold. 

 

The night wasn’t so fun after that. 

 

Most nights weren’t so fun after that. 

 

David started going home early, taking Les with him and leaving a small pile of change on the table for Jack. They still sold, but it felt like the second they returned their unsold papers and got the cash back, they were gone. Jack missed his best friend. 

 

David was gone, but Katherine was a near constant presence. She was driving Jack mad. Turns out, love at first sight really was for suckers. It didn't stick. Katherine was perfect for anyone but Jack. 

 

“Jack, are you even listening?”

 

“Course I am, doll,” Jack said, like a liar. 

 

Katherine sighed. “Don’t call me that. I’m not an object, you know.”

 

“Ain’t I know it,”Jack muttered. “It’s just a pet name, Kath, nothin’ deeper too it. Won’t try that again.”

 

“I understand that it’s a pet name, but it’s still offensive to women. I’m not your  _ doll _ , I am my own woman.”

 

“And I understand that, darlin’, I didn’t mean anything with that. I won’t call you doll ever again.”

 

Things were tense between Jack and Katherine for a while. 

 

“Havin’ a spat?” Spot asked. 

 

“This ain’t your territory, Conlon,” Jack said, tired. “Why you spend so much time in Manhattan nowadays? You tryin’ to take my sellin’ spots?”

 

“Oh I would never, Cowboy. I’m here for a more, uh,  _ personal _ visit.” Spot winked. “Race and I are gonna check out the ponies.”

 

“Race, huh?” Katherine questioned slyly. “He’s been cheerier lately.”

 

“He’s got good reason to be.”

 

Jack’s blood ran cold. Spot and Race. Together. Katherine said something, but he didn’t hear it. One of his boys was a queer. One of New York’s leaders was a queer.  _ Fuck.  _

 

( _ One  _ of New York’s leaders. Jack had a good laugh a few months later. Not one. Plenty more than one.)

 

Katherine knew Jack liked her. She knew he was attracted. When they kissed, she felt the emotion deep in him. Jack Kelly liked Katherine Plumber. But not enough. 

 

She saw how he stiffened when Spot mentioned him and Race. She saw how he slumped in disappointment when David wouldn’t hang out with the boys after selling. She knew that if it came down to it, Jack would run to David before he’d run to her. 

 

And it stung.

 

“I like girls too, you know,” Katherine told him one night. “I like you plenty, but I think girls are good too.”

 

“Oh.” The room was silent. Then, “Why are you tellin’ me?"

 

“Thought you’d like to know.” She didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s not a problem, liking both.”

 

Jack was visibly uncomfortable. He seemed to look everywhere but at Katherine. She felt the same. 

 

“And it isn’t a problem for Spot and Race to like each other,” she added. 

 

“I know it ain’t a problem, Plumber, but what’s it got to do with us, right now? You leavin’ me for a girl or somethin’?”

 

Katherine sighed. “No, Jack, I’m not leaving you for a girl.” He finally looked at her. “But you’re leaving me for a boy.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not dumb, Jack Kelly. I have eyes. It’s not fair to go out with me when you are so… so  _ infatuated _ with him.” Tears burned in the back of Katherine’s eyes. She hadn’t meant to make up her mind. “I can’t be with you anymore."

 

“Kath, I…” Jack wore his sadness in his eyes. “I’m real sorry. I think you’re just swell, you know?”

 

She smiled. Tears dripped down her cheeks. “I know you do, Cowboy. I think you’re swell too, but you like him more than you like me. It’s alright.”

 

“I don’t know how to do this.”

 

“I can’t help you with it. This is your move.” Katherine kissed Jack’s cheek softly, and walked away. 

 

Her father was sure to be thrilled when she told him what she’d done. He’d be ecstatic, overjoyed, possibly even reckless. Katherine felt selfish for breaking up with Jack, being the one positive link between him and Pulitzer. 

 

How could she have stayed with Jack, though? Home should be where the heart it, and Jack was never home. 

 

(Home wasn’t far. If only Katherine had known, walking home alone that September night, how near her heart was.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u to everyone who comments im too intimidated and foolish to answer them but know im weeping in my bed


	3. 1917

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this 1 is a lil longer i am rly ignoring all the plans i set for this but its ok ig. i like how i decided that the pact was gonna be a big deal and yet i have not mentioned it once. we'll get there. also. i research basically everything i include like if something is not factual it is on purpose and i am aware of it but most of this will be ~historically accurate~

The world was yellow.

 

_I can just see it, Davey. The moon so big and yellow, it turns night right into day._

 

Not a good yellow.

 

_Jack, you need to calm down._

 

Not the right yellow.

 

_I can’t get the damn colors right, Davey. I can’t paint one lousy scene, and this is what I’m doin’ for a living?_

 

Not a happy yellow.

 

_I gotta go, I can’t stay here anymore, not like this. This damn city is eatin’ me alive._

 

Not a healthy yellow.

 

_David, you need to come home._

 

Not a bright yellow.

 

_What’s wrong with her?_

 

It was a sickly yellow.

 

_Something’s blocking her liver. Doctors don’t know if they can help._

 

A burning yellow.

 

_I can’t go with you._

 

A painful yellow.

 

_I know._

 

A yellow that felt like goodbye.

 

_And you’re still going?_

 

A yellow that felt like heartbreak.

 

_I’m sorry._

 

The world was yellow and all David knew was pain and burning and yellow, yellow, yellow. He wanted so badly to be awake. Dreams were lies. Dreams had sucked all the joy from his life. Dreams were cold.

 

The real world was so much colder.

 

David woke up alone in a crowded hospital. His eyes burned and his chest stuttered with every breath. He could see outside the window into the dark, starless night. David knew the moon would be the same size, wherever he was, but France’s moon was too small. France’s moon was too yellow.

 

Jack used to say that the moon was bigger in Santa Fe, before he left. He and David would sit on the roof, look over Manhattan’s night, dreaming of a future together miles and miles away from the noise and bustle of New York.

 

“The moon is bigger in Santa Fe, just you wait Davey, we’ll see it one day,” Jack would say, his nose red and wind biting at his cheeks. “It don’t get so cold there. Summer all year long.”

 

“The moon’s a natural satellite of the Earth, hundreds of thousands away from here. It’s not any bigger in Santa Fe than is here,” David would respond, but he’d be smiling.

 

“You and your brain,” Jack would laugh. “I’ll prove you wrong. You’ll see when we get there.”

 

David never got to see. He had to stay in New York, with its little moon and cloudy skies and cold winters, and he never got to be proved wrong.

 

The thought of going back to New York… the trenches were more appealing. David had faced war, deadly and gritty, had held men through their last moments, had stood overnight in puddles of water, slowly losing the feeling in his feet, hoping he could get out before trenchfoot got him, and still, he’d rather stay and die in France than ever go back to another lonely day in a city that never let him rest. A tiny, cruel voice in his head told him, _Jack saved you, maybe he’ll let you go back to Santa Fe with him,_ but David couldn’t listen. Couldn’t get his hopes up.

 

Besides, he could only go anywhere with Jack if they both survived. The likelihood of that felt depressingly low.

 

\--

 

David had been in the hospital for three days when the commotion began. At least a dozen men were rushed in, all varying levels of bloody, some groaning in pain, some so still they had to already be dead. Nurses swarmed like angry bees, yelling for supplies and beds and room for all the injured men.

 

“There’s not enough beds,” one nurse said. “We don’t have room for all of them.”

 

The man next to David who had a bullet removed from his shoulder that morning stood up. “I can stand fine, give someone my bed.”

 

Two more men gave up their beds. David stood up next. His chest still burned and the way his skin stretched at the sudden movement felt like he was on fire, but he could stand well enough. He wanted to do the right thing for once in his life.

 

Nurses quickly filled the open spots, and the man who was lowered onto David’s bed, bloody, writhing, panting, had to be Jack Kelly.

 

“Jack,” David rasped out, but he was pushed aside.

 

“There’s chairs by the wall. Go sit, Private,” a nurse said.

 

“But I know him,” David tried. “Can’t I help?”

 

“You have any experience with medicine? He was caught in an explosion. We need to treat the burns.”

 

“I- I don’t know anything, but I have to help,” he begged. “Any way I can.”

 

The nurse sighed. “You can help cut off his clothes. Some coulda melted onto his skin.”

 

David gagged as he used dull, squeaky scissors to cut through Jack’s undershirt. He’d undressed Jack countless times before, had seen him in all forms of undress, but he never thought he’d be cutting off blood stained clothes. All his old memories would be tarnished by the sight before him. Twenty year old Jack, skinny from hunger but fit from working on the docks, replaced by thirty seven year old Jack with scars littering his chest and a burn covering half his stomach.

 

Jack had only been so vulnerable to him one other time, when they were much younger. December 1901 was colder than any other year, and fevers raged on in half of the newsies. Jack had been working the docks for over a year by then, had left Race in charge when he moved on, but of course he still visited his boys. Of course he still took care of them. Crutchie was banned from visiting from fear of catching something he couldn’t shake, but Jack spent every free moment caring for boys who couldn’t sell. David was in school upstate at that point, but he’d come to see his family for Hanukkah when Jack showed up, delirious and crying.

 

“I can’t take care of them all,” he’d wept. “Some keep gettin’ sicker, and these docks don’t pay much, an’ my rent’s too high to keep up with.”

 

David had brought him inside, kissed his warm forehead, and put him to bed. Jack had caught what the newsies had, so David spent the rest of his holiday toting food and medicine around the lodging while Jack stayed with the Jacobs.

 

On New Year’s, Jack had dragged them out to the fire escape, shaking even under all  his layers. “Don’t go back to school,” he’d asked, softly. “I hafta be selfish. I can’t stand when you’re gone.”

 

“Yeah, alright.”

 

“What?”

 

David had looked into his eyes, holding his gaze, trying to convey that he’d do anything for Jack. “I can’t stand being gone, either,” he’d whispered. “I miss you too much.”

 

“So you’ll stay?”

 

“Of course.”

 

They rung in 1902 with soft kisses and went to bed barely a minute into the new year. David undressed Jack slowly, pulling off his clothes and kissing exposed skin. Jack was sick, open, in love, selfish, selfless, and so, so strong. They didn’t do anything more than hold each other, piling blankets over their naked bodies to hold in the warmth. On that night, David thought he’d found forever.

 

Fifteen years later, in France’s chilling November, David undressed Jack, but he couldn’t kiss down his chest or hold him tightly under a dozen blankets. He had to watch as nurses spread a thick cream all over him, bandaging his wounds with gauze that was immediately stained red.

 

Fifteen years later, it was David begging Jack to stay.

 

Jack almost didn’t wake up. David sat by his side all through the day and into the night, a childish determination set in his heart, helping to change his bandages, toweling the sweat off his forehead. At least four of the men caught in the same explosion died, carted out under damp white sheets. David could have taken one of their beds, but he couldn’t leave Jack.

 

“He your brother?” a soldier asked.

 

David hesitated. “In a way,” he replied.

 

Jack was more than a brother. Jack was his whole world. David felt foolish, fawning over the man who had left him at his lowest point for greener pastures, but Jack was the kind of guy you couldn’t help but love. Jack was the kind of guy David would always want. So no, he wasn’t in any way David’s brother, but David would go to hell and back for him. There wasn’t anything Jack could do that would make David not want to help.

 

_You can’t get rid of us pal, we’re inevitable._

 

Before Jack could wake up, David was deemed healed, and pushed back out into battle. He barely made it ten minutes before passing out into a puddle of mud with wheezing gasps and twitching limbs.

 

(He was carried back into the hospital on a yellow stretcher.)

 

Jack felt like crap. More than crap, he had never experienced pain so blistering and earth shattering before. He woke up with a sharp gasp, hurtling up, screeching in pain, calling for help, stuck in an explosion for all of eternity.

 

“Calm down, Kelly,” a familiar voice said.

 

Through blurry vision, Jack vaguely made out, was that Albert? The red hair was unmistakable.

 

“Lay back down,” Albert said. “You’re gonna make yourself bleed again.”

 

“What are you doing here?” Jack asked, still breathing heavy.

 

Albert looked down at where his left leg should have been and then back at Jack. “You take a guess, pal.”

 

“Jesus fuck,” Jack swore, pinching his eyes closed. “What the hell happened to ya?”

 

Albert shrugged. “Spend too long in the trenches, that’s what happens to a fella. Think I’ll be sent home soon though. One positive.”

 

“Hey Al,” Jack sat up, pushing away Albert’s hands. “I brought Davey in here a few days ago. You seen him since?”

 

Albert gave a sympathetic smile. “Sure have, Cowboy. The Mouth sat by your side for nearly two days straight. They sent him back out a few days ago but he immediately dropped out. Got put in the back with a bad flu. Heard that his lungs ain’t working right.”

 

“I pulled him away from some of that mustard gas,” Jack said miserably. “He had a busted mask, passed out on me. I wasn’t hurt so they wouldn’t let me stay.”

 

“You might not a been hurt then, but you sure as hell are now,” Albert said. “You gotta lay down. You’re already bleedin’ everywhere.”

 

Jack looked down, and yeah, he was bleeding through his bandages. He really didn’t care, not when Davey was in the same room as him for the first time in thirteen years, hurt and sick.

 

“They won’t let you see him,” Albert said gently. “He’s contagious. I say you just sit tight until he gets all better. I’ll stay with you long as I’m here.”

 

“Ain’t you mad at me?” Jack asked. “You’re being awfully kind to the guy that up and left without a solid goodbye.”

 

“I was pissed at ya for a while there, right after you ran off, but not so much anymore. Most of us are doin’ fine.” Albert patted his shoulder. “Some folks in New York might not feel the same, but I’m just glad to see you alive.”

 

“Who wouldn’t be happy to see me?” Jack knew he had left at an awful time, had been terribly selfish and basically abandoned his friends who were more like family.

 

Albert didn’t want to say. Jack could see how badly he didn’t want to say who didnt like him.

 

“Tell me, Albert.”

 

Albert sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Well I know Crutchie would not be kind if you showed up on his doorstep. He decided after he found out the deal with Davey’s ma that you were too selfish for him.”

 

Damn, if that didn’t hurt more than the bleeding or the burning. Crutchie was his brother. Jack had taken the time to say bye to Crutchie, and had even written him a few times. He never got a response, but he never stopped writing.

 

“Sarah wouldn’t wanna see you either, but that’s just because she had to deal with Davey after you left and he was pretty torn up,” Albert continued. “And if Sarah don’t want you, that means Katherine won’t either.”

 

“I get it now, Al, thanks,” Jack interrupted. “I feel real bad for leaving.”

 

“Do you really?”

 

To be honest, Jack didn’t. He found a life he loved in Santa Fe, he felt so much freer and happier than he ever had in New York. He didn’t speak, and Albert heard his answer in the silence.

 

“I get it.”

 

“You should come down someday. You won’t believe how good the food is.”

 

Albert grinned. “Don’t think I can drop everything like you could, I got a family now.”

 

“A family, good going there!” Jack laughed. “Tell me about them.”

 

Albert talked about his family for the rest of the night. His wife was an immigrant from Ireland. They’d gotten married shortly after Jack left, just before Albert’s dad died, and had three daughters and a son who were all sorts of crazy. “My son’s the oldest, you know, and we decided we had enough cash to send him to one of those fancy schools, and you wouldn’t believe who his teacher is,” Albert said, eyes bright.

 

“Who is it?”

 

“It’s Davey!” Albert laughed. “James came home talking about a Mr. Jacobs and I walked with him the next day and sure as hell, the Mouth was his teacher. He teaches different grades so James has had him a few times. Always so embarrassed when we have him over for dinner. Alana and I think it’s hilarious.”

 

Jack felt warm inside at the thought of David having a steady job and steady friends, still seeing the newsies, being invited over to dinner often enough that it’s a trend. He was curious, however, “Davey ever find himself someone?”

 

“Nah, he’s still single. Don’t think he ever really dated after you, now that I think about it. Might’ve had a girl once, but not for long.” Albert shrugged. “Dating’s not real easy for him, is it?”

 

Jack was selfishly relieved. David was at least still single. A cruel voice told him _maybe he’ll take you back,_ but Jack couldn’t listen. Couldn’t get his hopes up.

 

Besides, he could only plan a future with David if they both survived. With David quarantined with a bad flu and with the way Jack couldn’t stop bleeding, the likelihood of that felt depressingly low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hm sorry i keep making jack an ass hole he's rly not 
> 
> (also this is a combo of musical and movie so idc who u picture as ur jack but literally. christian bale in 2012 (at 38) was so fine... damn)


	4. 1900

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> went longer between updates than i intended but damn shit if i aint stressed abt everthing in my life rn
> 
> uh ik nobody noticed but me but i literally put in only 1 line of the pact and completely forgot the rest of the scene so im an actual dumbass. i fixed it but still. what a fuckin idiot.

“Katherine an I broke up."

 

“I got accepted to a good college upstate.”

 

A soft spring breeze lifted David’s hair. “Oh,” Jack said. “You goin’?"

 

“Yeah.” David’s lips were pressed together tightly. His hands trembled almost imperceptibly. “My dad wants me to make something of myself.”

 

Jack scoffed. “Like you ain’t already something here. Leader of the successful newsboy strike of 1899, you don’t need no fancy school to make a name for yourself.”

 

“Not what my dad thinks,” David shrugged with a half smile. “Can’t get a good job without a good education.”

 

“What’s he think the boys and I will do then?” Jack asked, a little angry. Nobody needed an education to get a job. Jack was gonna do perfectly fine. Work in some factory just long enough to save, then he’d run off to Santa Fe and live a life fuller than Mayer Jacobs could imagine, hopefully with David by his side.

 

David shrugged. “He’s really just thinking of me.”

 

“What are you thinkin’ of?”

 

A heavy wind made the silence even louder.

 

“You gonna visit home ever?” Jack asked.

 

“Course I am,” David said. “Course I’m gonna visit my parents and Sarah and Les and-” he gulped. “And I gotta come visit you too, Jackie."

 

The nickname settled warmly in Jack’s chest. It felt better than Cowboy; more personal, more David. “Good.” Jack couldn’t conceal his smile. “Don’t know what I’d do if you were runnin’ off forever.

 

"Hey.” David was suddenly serious. He reached out and gripped Jack’s hands tightly. “Don’t go to Santa Fe while I’m gone. Don’t go without saying bye.”

 

“I’d never.”

 

“I’m serious, Jack.”

 

Jack stared deeply into David’s eyes. “I’m serious too.”

 

“I don’t want you going before telling me because, well.” David’s eyes flicked to their feet. “Well, I think I’d like to go with you.”

 

All Jack could hear was the pounding of his heart and the hot rushing of his blood. He wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream, to kiss David square on the lips, but their spot under a tree in the park didn’t give enough privacy to do any of that. He settled on squeezing David’s fingers and offering a soft grin. “I think I’d like you to come with me.”

 

And damn, if David’s blush wasn’t the cutest thing. “I don’t have the slightest clue what I’d do in Santa Fe,” he laughed, almost breathless. “I guess I don’t know what I’d do here either, but Santa Fe…” he trailed off, smiling.

 

“Don’t I know it,” Jack murmured, leaning back against the tree, staring at the clouds through the branches. “Santa Fe’s a brand new world for us. No bad memories there. Nobody holdin' us back. Kath's wrong to think I'm just goin' west to be like other fellas. I'm goin' to love free.”

 

“Jack!” David said, suddenly, sitting upright, pulling Jack’s hand with him. “I totally forgot! Did you say you and Katherine broke up?”

 

Jack snorted. “Yeah, like ten minutes ago. It’s fine.”

 

“It’s not fine,” David scowled. “I just ignored you for my own problems, like some selfish idiot.”

 

“Hey, I says it’s fine, so it’s fine, Davey. I ain’t too heartbroken over it,” Jack assured. “Happened a coupla days ago anyhow.”

 

“And you didn’t tell me?” David looked so hurt, Jack’s heart twisted.

 

“I didn’t want you worryin’ bout lil ole me,” Jack tried. “Come on, neither of us thought it’d last, right?"

 

“Dunno,” David shrugged. “You seemed pretty into her.”

 

“Thought I was.” Jack stretched his legs out. “Not really anymore.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“Got my eyes on someone a little prettier now.” Jack tried for subtle flirting, but a glance at David told him the message wasn’t getting through. “What I means is, she wasn’t… quite my type. Too short, I think. Hair too long too.”

 

David picked at a thread in his trousers. He didn't understand. For someone who prided himself in being smart, he sure was slow.

 

Jack sighed. “Lemme try again, Mouth. Kath was, well, she was great an all, but I’m not lookin’ for a girl like her. Not lookin’ for a girl.”

 

David looked up, waiting for Jack to finish his sentence, but he never did. “Not looking for a girl?” he questioned softly.

 

“Nah,” Jack grinned. “I already told you, I’m into someone prettier.”

 

“What’s your person look like?” David asked, warming up to the idea. Maybe he was getting it.

 

“Shorter hair, darker than hers. Real short, real dark. Dresses nicer than her too, even without all the money. Got a better family than her, for sure. Ain't opposed to runnin' off and livin' new.”

 

“That could be just about anyone, Jack,” David said, but his smile shone through in his words.

 

“But you gotta know who it is, Davey, I know you ain’t that thick.”

 

The way David’s gaze burned into Jack told him that David did know, he did understand fully. “I’m not that thick,” David said softly. “And I know who you mean, but…” He bit his lip. “I think chasing someone like that has to be dangerous.”

 

And Jack understood. He had to. They had sold the news for a living, both boys knew what happened to boys who liked boys. They saw the gory headlines, the detailed articles. They witnessed the torture of the boys. Boys like them.

 

“Maybe it’s too dangerous for now,” Jack whispered. “But maybe not always.”

 

“Maybe not always,” David agreed.

 

They let it go, but just for that day, just that one warm day in April. 

 

\--

 

David didn’t leave for college until that fall. Jack spent the whole summer practically hanging off of David’s arm, always begging to go out, to sit on the roof, to go to the theater, to really do anything as long as they did it together. It was still too dangerous to be anything but friends.

 

One September night, right before fall broke, when it was still warm enough to be comfortable, they sat back to back on the roof of the lodging house.

 

Jack hadn’t lived there for some time; Kloppman couldn’t keep kids past eighteen, and Jack’s nineteenth birthday had passed in June. But, he could still sit on the roof, on his penthouse, and reminisce about the past and fantasize about his future.

 

“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow,” Jack sighed. “I don’t want you to go.”

 

“I don’t want to go either,” David said, but they both knew he was lying.

 

“Yes you do, you nerd,” Jack giggled. “You can’t fuckin’ wait to read a bunch of pretentious shit and talk with people as smart as you.”

 

“I am a little excited,” David admitted. “I just wish you could come with me.”

 

“Yeah, me too pal,” Jack said wistfully.

 

It was a still night. The moon was a soft crescent in the sky, surrounded by a spattering of stars that reflected in David’s eyes. Not many people were out in the street, or at least if they were, they were quiet. It was an unusual calm. Jack enjoyed the silence on his last night with David. Neither knew the next time they could be alone together.

 

“There’s more stars in Santa Fe,” Jack said. “A million billion more stars. And the moon is bigger.”

 

David laughed, softly but largely. “I’ve told you before, the moon’s the same size wherever you are. It’s always the same moon.”

 

“You gonna say something corny about how we’ll both be lookin’ at the same moon if we ever miss each other?” Jack snickered.

 

“Wasn’t gonna, but might as well now.” David stood, pulling Jack up with him, dragging him into an embrace. “If you ever miss me too bad, just look at the sky. I promise I will be too.”

 

Jack didn’t think David had it in him. “God, you drive me crazy.”

 

The air was hot between them, hot and charged with something neither had felt before. Something about the calm of the night looming over knowing what was to come the next day, knowing the goodbyes they'd have to give, electrified the tension. Jack had been with girls, but he had never wanted someone like he wanted David. David had never been wanted like Jack wanted him.

 

“We can’t,” David breathed, but they kept drifting closer.

 

“We can,” Jack whispered.

 

The stars winked at them from above. The moon was the only witness to the soft kiss filled to the brim with love and desire and need, so much need. The vast expanse of sky over them was a blanket protecting them from the horrors of the quiet streets below.

 

“Look at us,” Jack said, oh so softly. “Like an old married couple, me an’ you.”

 

“You’d settle for me?”

 

“Not settling when it comes to you, doll.”

 

David blushed at the nickname. He hated that he loved it so much. “Too bad it can’t happen.”

 

Jack stepped back slightly, holding David’s face in his hands. “I know youse about to run off to a bigger and better place, youse about to meet new people. I won’t mind if you find someone you can be with.”

 

His eyes said otherwise.

 

“I’m not going for anyone else, Jackie,” David laughed gently. “You’re all I want.”

 

“Since we can’t do it now, hows about, if when you're 38, you still ain't got anyone, we'll get hitched.” Jack winked at him.

 

David laughed. “Why 38? What about a nice, round 40?”

 

“I don’t wanna marry no old broad!” Jack said gleefully. “Gotta lock you down while you’re still young and hot.”

 

“So you only want me for my body, come on, Jack.” But David couldn’t help but smile.

 

“You know I want you for more than that. I want you for everything.”

 

"And I want you back, but we can't get married, Jackie. You know that's not legal, pal."

 

"Ugh don't call me pal when we just made out," Jack snickered. "Just make the deal, Davey."  
  
  


David rolled his eyes. "Fine. When we're 38, we'll get married."

 

"Can't wait," Jack said.

 

David pulled him in for another kiss.

 

Two boys fell deeper in love on a rooftop in September under blinking stars as the moon watched on with soft eyes.

 

The next day, Jack saw David off, watching him board the train with a heavy heart. “Don’t forget me,” he asked.

 

David gave him one last smile as the doors closed. “I could never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey gamers. i really love comments. i write faster and better when ppl give that good feedback with words. just saying. ;)


	5. 1905

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING CHARACTER DEATH if you dont want to read about mom dying then this isnt the chapter for you!!!! be safe!!!!
> 
> um this hoe much longer than i thought it'd be and idk how i feel about it. we'll see more of jack next chapter! i promise. also, since im making such an effort to put this in anything but chronological order, some stuff may not make sense but it'll get there. idk why i chose this setup but it's fun thinking of ways i can jump around.

The first day of 1905 was like a punch to the face. 

 

David couldn’t help but remember all the New Years he and Jack had celebrated together, always kissing or holding hands as the clock struck midnight. Each of those nights had felt like a promise of forever, a promise of  _ I’m ending this year and starting the next with you by my side.  _ Just a year prior, they’d been in Brooklyn drinking watery coffee with their closest friends, sharing space and body heat, immeasurably happy.

 

Oh, how fast things can change. 

 

It had been almost two months since, well. Since David found himself alone and miserable. Since his dreams for the future had been crushed into pieces and he was left to sweep up the mess but couldn’t find a broom. David was a little surprised he had survived those months. He almost didn’t, as Thanksgiving passed with no food and no celebration, nothing to be thankful for, as Hanukkah passed with no candles and no gifts because they could not afford a second of peace, as days passed with doctors saying there was nothing to do but wait, as David’s mother laid in her bed on the brink of death, as Les quietly went back to selling instead of school, as Sarah tripled the hours she worked, as Mayer skipped out on his medications and meals, as David found himself in a factory during the two weeks his students got for winter break. He almost didn’t make it. 

 

But he did, and 1905 had begun, promising nothing but sadness. 

 

“She’s gotten worse.”

 

“You say that every time,” David whispered. It was late out. He had just finished a long shift of tedious repetitiveness in the factory. Sarah met him at the door when he crept in. 

 

“I mean it this time,” she answered. “I think…” her breath caught. “I think this might be it, David.”

 

“She’s really dying?” David had never felt smaller. Sarah pulled him in for a tight hug. Her cool fingers gripped the thin coat, pulling it tight against his aching muscles. “Oh God,” he choked out, hoarse. “I’m not ready for this.”

 

“Me neither.” Sarah’s words were muffled by his collar. David could feel her tears seeping through the fabric. He was sure he was crying as well, but was so numb that he couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel anything. 

 

Les and Mayer were in Esther’s room, sitting on the foot of her bed, when David and Sarah walked in. Les was curled up against his father, looking simultaneously much too old and much too young to be 15. Les was still a kid, a kid who shouldn’t have to deal with his mother dying right before his eyes. Hell, David and Sarah were 23, still too young to lose a parent. 

 

(David thought of Jack, as he did a lot those days. Jack had lost his parents when he was so much younger than any of them, had lived alone on the streets for most of his life. Most of the newsies had lost one, if not both of their parents. David felt selfish for being so sad. Others had it so much worse.)

 

“How are you doing, Ma?” David asked. 

 

Esther blinked through heavy eyes. Her forehead dripped with sweat from the struggle of staying alive. “David,” she wheezed. Les curled further into Mayer. “Come here.”

 

David knelt by her side, pulling off his ragged mittens before taking her hand in his. “I’m here, Ma,” he whispered. “I’ll always be here.”

 

“Good.” She smiled faintly, but her eyes were so glazed that David knew her mind was somewhere else. “I never see you anymore.”

 

“I’m really sorry about that.” David’s heart broke. “I’ve been at a factory.”

 

Esther’s smile dropped into a frown. “Factory? I thought- teacher.”

 

David scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand. “Yeah, I am a teacher, but the kids are on break. Just working to make a little extra money.” He smoothed back her hair. 

 

“Don’t like your school, Davey,” she sighed. “Teaching outside, too cold.”

 

“I know you don’t like it, but it saves room.” He managed an almost smile. His mother couldn’t die worrying about him. “When we use the outdoor classrooms, more kids can go to school, and we don’t have to charge them anything. It’s good, I promise.”

 

“Wish you’d do school,” she mumbled. “Should go back.”

 

“Maybe someday,” he said through tears. 

 

Esther closed her eyes. David held his breath. She opened them again, wider this time. “David, where’s Jack?” she asked. “Usually together.”

 

Her question was a knife to the chest. David couldn’t find the strength to answer. 

 

“He’s been busy lately, Mom,” Sarah answered, struggling to find a lie. “He’s been… he’s been meeting with the President. Isn’t that cool? President Roosevelt knows our- he knows Jack. Remembers him from the strike.”

 

_ Our Jack. _ David took a shuddering breath. 

 

“Proud of you four,” Esther said. Her words slurred together. “All of you… something good. Strike helped a lot of kids. Very proud.”

 

_ This feels like goodbye _ . Sarah crouched beside David. Mayer urged Les to squeeze between them. The rise and fall of Esther’s chest was more rapid, more jerky. David wanted to shield Les away. He couldn’t. 

 

“Love all three of you,” she managed. “So much. Will miss you.” David kissed her fingers. They were tinged yellow. They never could get rid of the jaundice. “Want the best. Les… be smart.” David let go of her hand so she could shakily stroke her youngest’s face. “Learn. Be brave.” Les nodded, leaning into her touch. “Sarah, don’t let anyone hold you back. You can be great.” Sarah used her handkerchief to wipe the sweat off Esther’s face. “David… school. Get a better job. Finish school.” 

 

“I will,” he promised. 

 

Esther turned to her husband. Mayer gazed upon her with so much grief, but she looked up at him with so much love that she didn’t need words. Even though her eyes were glassy and nearly unseeing, she used them to say  _ Take care of them. Don’t work too hard. I love you. Don’t be sad. _

 

She gave a heaving breath, and spoke once more. “There’s money in my hat box. Use it for yourselves.” She closed her eyes. And that was it. 

 

Les fell back with a scream, eyes squeezed shut, face twisted, limbs shaking. Mayer sunk to his knees, gripping at his hair. Sarah clutched her hands to her chest, rocking back and forth, crying softly. David couldn’t even move. 

 

The first day of 1905 killed his mother. 

 

They couldn’t leave her there, still in her bed, eyes half closed, mouth half open. Sarah pulled the soft yellow quilt over Esther’s head, and she and Mayer walked to find out what the hell they were supposed to do next. Could they even afford a funeral?

 

David suddenly remembered his mother’s dying words. There was money in her hat box. She only wore hats on special occasions; she always said they made her feel fancier. Even though he didn’t think his legs would work, David stood and opened her closet door. The faded pink box rested on the top shelf, and when he opened it, the world stopped. He couldn’t hear his brother’s cries, his sister’s soft words downstairs, his father’s heavy steps, the bustle of the city, the creaking of the floorboards, nothing. Nothing at all. Because in that box sat piles upon piles of bills. Stacks of cash that would be- would have been more than enough to pay for doctors and medicines and treatments that could have saved her. The money had been there all along. 

 

A cold hand grabbed his shoulder and David spun around, stumbling forward, clutching the box to his chest. Sarah stood in front of him, brows worried, lips moving, but David could not hear. She made no noise. 

 

“I-” he stammered. “I can’t.” He thrust the box into her arms and ran, flying down the stairs and out the door and into the white world outside. The sun was beginning to rise, marking a new day, and the snow glistened beautifully, but David didn’t notice. He couldn’t. 

 

He ran with no destination in mind, ran to get away, ran to feel something other than the crushing pain in his heart. He found himself at the docks. A few men had already shown up for work, and one noticed David. “Hey I recognize you. You here for Kelly?” the worker asked. “He quit coupla months ago. Ran off west.”

 

At least David could hear again. He missed Jack. He would give anything for a hug. 

 

David turned on his heel and walked away, slowly this time. He still wasn’t wearing his mittens, and his ears were cold from his lack of hat. If he stayed out too long, he could get sick, and he couldn’t put his family through another illness, but he couldn’t go home. 

 

More than anything, David wanted to go to his and Jack’s old apartment, walk straight into Jack’s warm arms, put a pot on their old stove, share a cup of hot tea over soft kisses. All he had left were memories. Someone new lived in their apartment; David couldn’t afford it alone. There was no home, and there was no Jack. David wanted to be furious, but all he could be was sad. 

 

The sun was fully in the sky before David made his way back home. The door was open, and people clad in dark coats were walking out. A carriage was parked on the street. “David!” Sarah called, visibly relieved. She pulled him into a tight hug. Just a few hours before, they’d stood in that exact spot, holding each other, preparing for death. This hug felt like anguish.

 

“What’s going on?” he asked. 

 

“Dad and I went to the synagogue to find a good funeral home. They’ve come to take her so we can hold the funeral. We’re holding the service later today.”

 

“So soon?” David asked. “I know it’s tradition to do it the day after, but wouldn't that be tomorrow?”

 

“It’s best to do it today. It’s cheaper.”

 

“Sarah,” David said carefully. “Did you look in the hat box?”

 

She met his eyes and bit her lip. “Let’s talk about it inside.”

 

“Is there something wrong?” he asked as she dragged him inside, into the kitchen, away from everyone else. “Sarah?”

 

“We don’t know where she got all that money,” she said lowly. “Dad has no idea. Neither does Les. There’s no way she could have gotten that by working. We don’t want to use it if it’s going to get us in trouble.”   
  


“Have you looked for a clue in the box?”

 

Sarah shook her head. “Not yet. We didn’t want it out when people were here.”

 

“I need to look,” David said, and shouldered his way back to her closet. He chose to ignore how his mother’s bed was empty. 

 

Inside the box, the money was stacked and tied together. David had never seen so much money at once, not even in the bank. He rifled through with his hand, and in the bottom of the box, found a note. It was typed on yellowing paper with smudged ink. 

 

_ In case you ever need it. JK+KP. _

 

A tear escaped David’s eye. 

 

His last fight with Jack made a little more sense, but why had he never told him? Why had Katherine never brought it up? Why did they just give it to Esther? David had a million questions and no way to get an answer. Jack was gone, Katherine was too busy for friends from her teens. Maybe Sarah could ask her, one day. 

 

David folded the note and tucked it into his breast pocket. It was the only thing Jack had left behind, even if it was typed.

 

“Find anything?” Sarah asked, leaning on the doorway.

 

“No,” David answered. He didn’t know why he lied. “Maybe it’s from her parents.”

 

Sarah sighed. “Maybe.” She dragged her hands down her face. “Dad is going with the funeral home people to arrange everything. We should get dressed and tell people.”

 

“Go take a bath first,” David told her. “You need to rest.”

 

“You do too, David,” she tried. “I mean, with Jack, and then mom, I can’t…” her face twisted up miserably. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.”

 

David didn’t have an answer. “Just go clean up. I’ll talk to Les.”

 

Les was already dressed in all black, wearing his nicest clothes reserved for school, but he was sat in a ball on his bed. “You’re going to get your clothes all wrinkled, you know,” David said. 

 

Les shrugged. “Don’t really care. Won’t need them for school, will I?”

 

“Hey,” David frowned, moving to sit next to his brother. “All she wants is for us to go to school and be happy. We’ll get by with you in school.”

 

“All she wan- _ ted _ ,” Les grumbled. “She can’t actively want anything anymore.” He shrugged off the arm David tried to wrap around him. “And I’m not dumb, David. I know we can’t use that money, and I know we still have bills to pay off. I’ll go back to selling papers, or take your spot at the factory when school starts again.”

 

“Sarah and I already talked about it last week. When school starts, you’re going, and I’m working nights and weekends at the factory until we’re back on our feet.” David put his arm around Les again, and made sure it stayed there. “We’re going to be fine.”

 

“What about you, David?” Les lashed. “She wanted you to go back to school! School that is far away from here and very expensive! Why are you makin’ me go back while you’ll be bustin’ your ass half to death so we can eat dinner?”

 

“Because it’s what I have to do right now, Les,” David sighed. “I need to be doing things, or I’m going to do nothing but think about how angry I am at the world.”

 

“Are you angry at the world?” Les asked. “Or just Jack?”

 

“I think it’s both.”

 

“Well, I’m mad at Jack,” Les spat. “He left right when we needed him. Hasn’t even written.”

 

“I know it sucks, kid, but we have to keep going right now. You can sell after school and on weekends like I did after the strike, but I’m going to work extra hard right now.”

 

“And then you’ll go back to school?” Les asked. 

 

“We’ll see.”

 

The rest of the day was a blur. Sarah interrupted them to force David to go bathe and get dressed, and then they left for the cemetery. David had them stop by Crutchie’s place, awkwardly avoiding his overly friendly landlord Miss Polly, and found Finch there with him. They offered sincere condolences and said of course they would go to the funeral. The ceremony was probably nice, but David could hardly pay attention to anything but his mother’s coffin. It was made of cheap wood, smoothed as much as possible, but stained brown and yellow from water and decay. She was lowered into the hard, cold ground, and a lump formed in David’s throat. He and Sarah held hands as they dropped their fistfuls of dirt over the coffin. David didn’t even feel the cold. 

 

Crutchie and Finch joined them for the memorial at their house as well. Only the Jacobs and a few neighbors were there, drinking hot water with a touch of honey and eating crackers right on the edge of stale. David couldn’t eat anything. All he could think of was the money in the hat box, the note in his pocket, and the knowledge that school started back for him in only four days. He slipped away to the bathroom, gripping the sink and shaking at the thought of teaching in the bitter cold again. 

 

“How are you holding up?” Finch appeared out of nowhere to ask. 

 

“Not great,” David said through tears and snot. “I have to go back to work soon. Sarah will too. We can’t… we can’t stay here for shiva.”

 

“Oh, Davey.” Finch rubbed his back gently. “Les and your dad can stay, can’t they? You’re not any worse of a person for needing to work, I promise.”

 

David rubbed his nose. “I guess.”

 

“I can come sit with them.” Finch offered. “When my mom died, Jack paid for my bed every night that week so I didn't have to work and could mourn properly. I know he’s gone, but I’d like to feel like I’m paying him back.” He smiled. “It’s what he’d want.”

 

“You’re Jewish?” David asked. 

 

“Sure am,” Finch answered. “I could never afford to skip the Saturday paper, so I’ve only recently started going to the synagogue. It’s nice to be in touch with myself again.”

 

“I never knew.”

 

“You do now. And I’ll help however I can.”

 

When David was called to the factory the next day and Sarah was needed at work the day after, Finch came and helped Les and Mayer clean up, helped them make food, helped them start their new life without Esther. Les latched on to Finch like he had when he was nine and just learning to sell. Finch brought his old slingshot one day, giving Les rocks or crumpled up paper to shoot at the wall. David came home one night to the sound of laughter, and hoped he’d do the same for the rest of his life. 

 

On the first day back at school, David had to use the classroom on the roof. He stood in the doorway, passing out school owned scarves to every kid who came in, making sure everyone was warm. It was hard, standing and teaching English to a freezing group of children who were antsy to talk to each other about their breaks. 

 

“What’d you do over break, Mr. Jacobs?” one of his students, Robert, asked. “My mom made me do a bunch of dumb chores. Does your mom make you clean?”

 

“Mr. Jacobs is old, he doesn’t have a mom anymore, stupid,” another kid said. 

 

“Be nice to each other,” David sighed, and made sure not to answer Robert. 

 

David’s boss at the factory yelled at him for working slowly, but his fingers were so numb from spending all day out in the snow that moving them too fast would result in him losing one. He kept himself calm until he got home, where he broke down in Finch’s arms. When he left for work the next morning, he found a pair of thick, leather gloves waiting for him beside his bed. 

 

A week after his mother died, on January the eighth of 1905, the four Jacobs’ made their way to the cemetery to visit Esther in the early hours of the morning. They picked up pebbles on the walk there, placing them lovingly on Esther’s headstone. 

 

Les had to go back to school. Sarah left for work and didn't come back for days. Mayer had to work even through the pain in his leg. David worked his two jobs. They kept their sanity at first, but knew it wouldn’t last. 

 

A week into February, Mayer visited alone. “We’re struggling, Esther,” he said to her grave. “I don’t know how long we can go on. We need help.” A soft breeze, abnormally warm for February, passed over Mayer. He smiled. 

 

Mayer thought, with a little hard work, they could make it, without even needing to touch the hat box money. 

 

David, on the other hand, coughed into his elbow on the walk from school to the factory, and his chest rattled dangerously. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for a short period in the beginning of the 1900s, new york public schools utilized outdoor classrooms (like the roof or literally just plopping kids and a teacher outside) no matter the weather, to fit all the students in. schools would provide scarves and blankets and such to the kids during the winter. this system didn't last long, but it sure existed.
> 
> all your comments are so kind and they play on loop in my brain all day and as i write thank u all so much for the support :')


	6. 1917

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> each chapter just keeps getting longer im not even trying it's just happening. your comments fuel me. i weep.

The hospital reeked of sickness. With the cold November air sweeping across France, more men were brought in than ever, and they were all thrust straight into the quarantine back. Jack could smell their sour sweat and putrid breath even from his bed near the front. His burns exposed him to the infected air and he needed to stay as far away as the sick men as possible. Being kept away from the strangers meant he was kept from David but Jack would risk all sorts of infection just to see him. 

 

“There’s a shipment of fellas going home tomorrow. I’m going with them.”

 

“Good for you, Al.”

 

Albert sighed. “I’m tellin’ you cause I think you could go home too. You got pretty messed up and we all know you ain’t getting better soon enough to make a difference. They need the room here. As far as the nurses are concerned, you’re just taking up space.”

 

“I’m not goin’ home without David,” Jack said, steadfast. “I left him once, I ain’t doing that again.”

 

“Jack,” Albert groaned. “David would want you safe in America, not risking your life just to be near him.”

 

“I told you, I ain’t leaving him again.” Jack crossed his arms across his chest. The movement pulled at the burns on his side. He winced. 

 

“Jack, you’re hurt. They want you to go home.”

 

“And where’d I go to, Albert?” Jack asked sadly. “I go home to Santa Fe and never see him again? I go with you to New York where nobody wants to see me and wait to see if he ever makes it back? I’m waiting on him, an’ that’s final.”   
  


“You are just like him,” Albert muttered. “So self destructive.”

 

“Whaddaya mean by that?”

 

“You know how Davey is, always puttin’ others first. If it was you sick in there, I’d be having the exact same talk with him.” Albert coughed a little. “Well, I wish you’d come with, but I sure as hell ain’t waiting on you. I’m going home to my family before I catch my death.”

 

“I wouldn’t want you to stay here.” Jack would miss Albert and his familiar company, but he couldn’t let his friend get sick too. “I’ll stay by myself, maybe help around a little.”

 

“Did you not listen to the nurses this morning? You can’t help around for a long time. I bet they try to make you leave,” Albert said. 

 

“Watch them try,” Jack said darkly.

 

That morning, a short nurse with freezing fingers had examined his wounds. It’d been nearing on two weeks since he’d been caught in that explosion, and some of his burns were healing, but there was a stiffness in his stomach that was worrying. “You’re tissue’s growing back a bit too thick,” the nurse told him. “But we can’t do anything about it. You’ll just have to sit still and when you’re all healed, stretch before working too hard.”

 

So Jack was stuck in his bed until further notice, and he couldn’t move quite like he used to. He couldn’t get up without at least two people helping, and he couldn’t walk without his sides screaming in a numbing pain. If nurses tried to force him to leave, he couldn’t do anything to stop them. 

 

“I just hope they’re not too mad at you staying,” Albert sighed. “Sooner or later, everyone in here’s gonna be sick. No room for a guy who can’t move by himself.”

 

“I could get better,” Jack said. “They put that new burn cream shit on me and even if I’m a bit fucked up I could get better and get sent out again.”

 

“I know they’re pretty desperate for soldiers, but I don’t see them wanting a guy who can’t even lift his arms all the way fighting. You’re going home, Jack.”

 

“I could do some of those fancy stretches, you ever hear of yoga, Al?”

 

“Can’t say I have.” Albert tilted his head. “That some weird Santa Fe thing?”

 

“Naw, I have a buddy from Chicago who taught me all about it. Said some guy from India taught everyone about it in the World Fair.” Jack stretched his legs out. “It’s when you do weird poses and call it meditation.”

 

“Weird poses? Like what?"

 

Jack couldn’t tell if Albert was actually interested, or just was letting Jack yammer on.  _ Maybe this is what Davey felt like when we’d let him talk about what he learned in class for too long. I should’ve told him I was really interested, _ he thought.

 

“You lay down and call it corpse, like this.” Jack stuck his arms to his side and closed his eyes. “You’re supposed to keep all straight or somethin’.” He opened one eye. “I don’t get this one.” He sat up, leaning on his elbows. “Then, you turn around, hands and feet on the ground, and stick your rear right up in the air. That’s dog’s pose."

 

“Dog’s pose?” Albert laughed. “Can I get a demonstration?”

 

Jack pursed his lips in fake annoyance. “I’m just a tad stuck here, pal. Maybe when I’m better, I’ll give you a little show. Hey, why don’t you try? I’ll tell you what to do.”

 

Albert lifted an eyebrow. “I got one leg, Jack.”

 

“Oops,” Jack said, but he was grinning. “I bet you still could.”

 

“No way in hell, buddy. I don’t stick my rear out for just anyone.”

 

“Hey, I been meanin’ to ask.” Jack bit the inside of his lip. “Didn’t you use to, y’know, stick your rear out for Elmer?”

 

Albert barked out a laugh. “I did, long time ago.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Teenage relationships don’t always last.” Albert shrugged. “Lots of us who were into each other before you left aren’t anymore. Can’t expect us to stay with one person forever, right?”

 

“Right.” But Jack was thinking, how many of the old newsies had broken up? How many of the relationships he surrounded his early adult years with had ended? Was there  _ any _ hope that David would go for him again?

 

Albert seemed to see the doubt in Jack’s expression. “Spot and Race are still good,” he offered. “And Kath and Sarah, I don’t know if you ever knew them together, but they’re goin’ on twelve years.”

 

“Kath and Sarah? As in Sarah Jacobs?” Jack asked incredulously.

 

“Guess they got together after you left,” Albert said. “Think it happened when Davey was sick and it looked like he wouldn’t make it, Kath really helped her out.” He smiled. “They’re a real good couple.”

 

“Hold up there, go back a sec.” Jack pushed himself up, sitting fully upright through the stiffness in his stomach. “Davey almost died?”

 

Albert laughed nervously. “Yeah, a bit after you left, flu went around the factories and Davey got it bad. Made it out just fine, though!”

 

“Factories?” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

A sick idea formed in Jack’s mind, of David in the factories. David was a  _ teacher. _ He’d been in his second year of teaching when Jack left, Jack left him with a steady job, David shouldn’t have been in a factory. But then, his mom was sick, doctors were expensive, they’d only told Esther about the money,  _ oh God. _

 

In the thirteen years since he’d left New York, his one regret was not seeing David. Not going back for David. After he’d settled in, he’d thought about it, but really, David had to be more successful in New York without Jack trying to pull him away. Jack finally saw what he’d stopped himself from realizing; maybe David wasn’t as successful as Jack had always imagined. 

 

Jack laid back down. He sighed. “I really fucked that up, didn’t I?”

 

“Sure did.” Albert patted his shoulder. “But you’re older now. Don’t fuck it up the same way.”

 

Jack vowed to himself that he wouldn’t ever be selfish with David again.  

 

The next day, Albert packed his bag with his meager belongings, and left the hospital with a group of other men. “I wish you would come,” he said sadly. 

 

“Go home to your family, Albert,” Jack said. 

 

Albert smiled. “I don’t know if I’m more nervous to see Alana or Crutchie. I’m gonna get quite the earful.”

 

“Good luck,” Jack told him, and then Albert was gone, and Jack was alone again.

 

The hospital was significantly emptier once the men left. Dozens of beds were opened up, and the less injured people could finally lay down. The nurses didn’t have to run around anymore, and it seemed that the quarantined men in the back were coughing less. Jack hoped it meant they were getting better. 

 

He had whole days to himself to think. A nurse would switch out his bandages and poke at his almost healed burns every once in a while, but other than that, he was left alone. It was nice. He hadn’t been alone for months, not since he joined all the young men who thought they had something to prove when President Wilson declared war. A hospital was less ideal of a place for solitude, but between a hard mattress and the trenches, Jack was almost thankful for the explosion. 

 

Jack thought of his life in Santa Fe. He wondered how his little farm was faring, if his neighbor’s wife Jenny kept up with it like she promised. He hoped the town wouldn’t be too modernized while he was gone. When he had arrived, all those years ago, and plopped himself into an apprenticeship on the outskirts of town, there’d not been much technology, but he’d watched and helped with the development of railroads, schools, small factories, and bridges. Santa Fe still held its appeal; Jack knew just about everyone in the town, and he felt so much freer than he ever did in New York, but times were changing and he needed to know if he’d return to the same home.

 

If he even did return.

 

Jack knew he couldn’t keep on without David. The man was- he was everything Jack had ever wanted, had ever missed. Jenny told him one day about her books, how she read romance novels, and there was this concept of soulmates. 

 

“Soulmates are more than boyfriends or husbands,” she’d said, eyes dreamy, legs swinging. “Soulmates are your other half. They’re someone you’re destined to be with forever. You love them more than anything.”

 

Jack had grinned. “You do read some interesting stuff there, Miss Jenny. You think you know your soulmate?”

 

She’d blushed, but when she married his neighbor Bill a few months later, nobody was surprised. 

 

Ever since Jenny had taught him about soulmates, Jack had thought of David as his. David was the only one he wanted. No man or woman in Santa Fe made him feel like David did. And since Jack told himself that he’d never be selfish with David again, well, there was a strong possibility he’d be going to New York when they were sent home.

 

Three days after Albert left, it all went to shit. During the night, eight men had succumbed to the flu, and Jack had a hard time getting to sleep as nurses slowly paraded corpses out of the hospital. In the darkness, Jack couldn’t make out any features of the dead men, and his heart hammered hard in his chest. David could be any one of those men. 

 

When morning broke, Jack woke in terrible, bone crushing, head spinning pain. He could barely pull in a ragged breath through the pressure in his whole body. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t speak. He wanted to sit up, but he couldn’t move. He was stranded helpless on his bed as nurses made morning rounds with fresh gauze and breakfast, but since Jack had been in the hospital for so long, he was one of the last people they checked on. An hour passed before anyone walked up to his bed. 

 

“Oh God,” a nurse mumbled, dropping the tray of bread and water to the floor with a clatter. “Doctor Jones!” she called. “Doctor Jones, come quick!”

 

Jack hadn’t been looked at by an actual doctor since he was first brought in. Through his muddled mind, he thought  _ I must be dying for them to get him. _

 

Heavy footsteps sped to Jack’s bed, and Dr. Jones swore under his breath. “Sit the man up,” he ordered. 

 

Warm hands pulled at Jack’s shoulders, shaking under the effort of lifting his stiff body. It wasn’t until he was upright that Jack noticed how far his stomach protruded, hot and swollen and stretching the buttons of his shirt. 

 

“What now?” the nurse asked. “He’s been doing so well, I don’t understand.”

 

“He’s been laying down too long,” Dr. Jones said. “Matilda, I told you that patients need to move or they’ll never get better.”

 

“But his burns were healing weird, I didn’t want him to overwork himself,” Nurse Matilda said, embarrassed. 

 

“Well he’s been down too long and there’s too much fluid trapped under his injury. We have to redistribute it around his body.” Dr. Jones placed  hand on Jack’s stomach. Fire exploded through Jack’s nerves at the contact. “Someone has to help massage his stomach to loosen it.”

 

“Are you sure, Doctor?” Nurse Matilda asked meekly. 

 

Dr. Jones sighed. “Get Hannah to do it if you don’t want to.”

 

Matilda set Jack against his pillows and scampered off. Dr Jones pushed his hand a bit harder against Jack, firm but gentle. “Hold on, soldier,” he said. 

 

The pain was indescribable. Jack worked hard to regulate his breathing, thinking of all the panic attacks he’d had as a teenage newsie, trying to remember how he’d stopped them. He wished David was there. 

 

Nurse Matilda never returned, but an older nurse with a familiar face came up and smiled at Jack. “I’m Nurse Hannah,” she said kindly. She nodded to Dr. Jones. “I have him covered if you’re needed elsewhere.”

 

When Dr. Jones lifted his hand away, Jack let out a groan and slumped. His eyes were half open and he could feel sweat drip down the side of his head. “Please don’t hurt me,” he managed. 

 

Nurse Hannah smiled sadly. “I’m afraid there’s no other way to help. Come on, Mr. Kelly. We’re going to sit you up and just move the fluids around. It won’t be long.”

 

Jack was too hazy to ask how she knew his name. All he could do was sit up, one of Hannah’s hands resting on his back, the other working at his stomach. She was right; the pain of the massage didn’t last long. The swelling went down some, and his buttons didn’t strain anymore, but his stomach still stuck out awkwardly. 

 

“You’re going to need to stand up now,” Hannah told him. 

 

There was nothing Jack wanted to do less, and when he was younger he would have fought tooth and nail to stay in bed, but he was grown. He had friends waiting on him. He (hopefully) had David to apologize to. He couldn’t be a baby and accept his fate. So, through pain and shaking legs, he stood, leaning heavily on Hannah.

 

“Oh you poor thing,” she said. “I’ll help you around today, but we can’t have you bedridden anymore.”

 

“Can I help with the sick people?” he asked, breathless. Standing was hard. “I want to help.”

 

“David’s been asking about you,” she told him. “I’ll let you help out with him, but he’s still sick, so you can’t stay with him long.”

 

“Hold up.” Jack squinted at Hannah. “Do I know you?”

 

“We met once,” she said. They started walking, making soft laps around the hospital. “I used to work for Pulitzer.”

 

“Pulitzer!” Jack gave a disbelieving laugh. “Honestly? How’d you end up here then?”

 

“After the strike, I quit.” She shrugged. “I didn’t like working with him, so I left and found a new job. When the war started, I chose to come help out. I’ve seen a couple guys I recognized, but I only knew you and David by name.”

 

“I remember you, you clapped for me!” Jack grinned. “Look at you, doin’ something good!”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Kelly.” She smiled back at him. Her eyes crinkled warmly. She had the aura of someone living a fulfilled life. “Now, don’t you want to see David?”

 

“You say he’s been asking for me?” Jack asked shyly. “So he’s doin’ alright?”

 

“He’s been holding on. He’s been sick for quite a while. All the gas he breathed in weakened his lungs. We don’t really know the long term effects of mustard gas yet, but I think he’ll get sick easier and it’ll take longer to shake off.” She led them to the entrance of the quarantined back. “Are you ready?”

 

“No, but I want to see him,” Jack said nervously. “You know that I ran off to Santa Fe? I abandoned him when his mom was dying. I haven’t seen him conscious since then.”

 

“Oh, he’s told me a lot,” Hannah said. “But he will be happy to see you.”

 

They pushed through the door. Jack held his breath as they entered, still feeling pain in his stomach, still aching with each step, but even though the pain and the nerves, his head was clear. 

 

There, sitting in a bed against a window, cradling a cup of water in both hands, sat David Jacobs. 

 

Jack had seen him after the gas attack, but he’d been more focused on the fact that  _ he’s not breathing _ and didn’t take in his appearance. The soft light of the hospital did David well. Even from far away, Jack could make out the soft wrinkles in his pale skin, the soft swoop of his hair, much shorter than when they were young, how there was a yellow sallowness to his cheeks, the gray smudges seemingly embedded under his eyes, and his eyes, so warm and so brown, they felt more like home than Santa Fe ever did. Jack swallowed through the lump in his throat. 

 

When David turned his head and locked eyes with Jack, the rest of the world melted away. Jack felt seventeen again, ready to sacrifice everything for this one boy. 

 

Hannah helped Jack to David’s side, and guided him into the chair next to his bed. “Keep him sitting upright,” she told David. “He really should be standing, but his legs can’t hold him up by himself.” She smoothed a hand down Jack’s shoulder, smiled, and left. 

 

For a moment, the air was tense and quiet. Jack stared at his own shaking fingers. 

 

“Thank you for saving me.” David spoke first. “If you hadn’t have brought me in after noticing my broken mask, I would be dead.”

 

“No- no problem,” Jack stuttered. Talking pulled at the hard muscles in his swollen side. He winced.

 

“Are you okay?” David asked. 

 

“Yeah just,” Jack breathed harshly. “Just still healing. Stuff didn’t go right.”

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be in here then,” David said worriedly. “Everyone in here is sick.”

 

“I can leave if you want-” Jack started, but David interrupted with a quick  _ “no!” _

 

“Don’t leave,” he asked, and it was filled with something Jack couldn’t think about. 

 

“I’m staying.” Jack tried to convey so much more into his words. “I won’t leave until you ask me to.”

 

“I won’t ask.”

 

Finding things to say was hard. Jack needed to apologize for leaving, he needed to ask David about his life, his job, but he couldn’t.

 

“Don’t slouch,” David scolded. “Hannah said to sit up.”

 

Jack instinctively straightened his back. “Thanks,” he said. “Need to move my fluids, or something.” He scrunched up his brows. “I was kind of out of it when they said what was wrong, but uh, there’s stuff? Stuck in me? And I can’t lay down.”

 

David smiled. Jack’s heart ached; the smile looked almost foreign on David’s face. His skin moved in a way that said he didn’t smile much, not anymore. “I think I know what happened,” he said. “You were burned badly, and if you stayed laying down through healing, then fluid gathered under your healing burn. You need to let it drain and redistribute around your body.”

 

“Sounds about right,” Jack shrugged. “Couple days ago a nurse told me my tissue was too thick and I couldn’t move, now they’re saying I always gotta stand.”

 

“A lot of the nurses aren’t experienced with medicine,” David explained. “They brought in anyone willing to deal with war injuries.”

 

“That makes a lot of sense,” Jack laughed. “Albert was hurtin’ the other day, sayin’ his leg hurt but he didn’t have a leg to be hurting, and a nurse offered him some medicine. He looked at her and said ‘how is medicine supposed to help? I got no leg.’ and she looked so embarrassed.”

 

“You saw Albert, then,” David said. “Where is he now?”

 

“Went home a few days ago. Tried to get me to go with, but I told him, I left Davey once before, I ain’t doin’ that again.” Jack realized, part way though his sentence, that he probably shouldn’t come on so strong, but  _ fuck it _ , he decided, David needed to know he intended to stay.

 

David’s cheeks flushed a light pink, all the more evident on his pale skin. “I’m glad he’s out of this.”

 

“His family deserves him home.”

 

“Crutchie is going to be so disappointed in him,” David said. “When we left, he specifically told us all to come back in one piece.”

 

“Al never was good at following instructions,” Jack snickered. “I’m excited to meet his kids, though,” he said carefully, waiting for David’s reaction. 

 

David snapped his eyes up to meet Jack’s. “Are you going back to New York? What about Santa Fe?”

 

“I love Santa Fe, but I left New York too long.” He took a deep breath. “I’m going wherever you do, Dave."

 

“I don’t want to hold you back,” David said weakly.

 

“You could never.”

 

Jack wanted to kiss David. David turned and coughed into the crook of his arm. 

 

“What I mean is, I feel real bad for leaving.” Jack put a hand on David’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have gone. I should have come back. Santa Fe was everything I wanted it to be but I can’t be happy until I’m back with you.” He exhaled shakily. “There. I said it, and I mean it."

 

“So you’re really going back to New York? For me?” David asked. There was a touch of disappointment in his eyes that Jack didn’t understand. 

 

“I really am.”

 

“Crutchie’s going to yell at you.”

 

“Yeah, I figured. Al told me some folks ain’t so fond of me anymore.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll have to deal with a little resentment and I’ll apologize a whole lot.”

 

“I won’t let him get too mad,” David promised. “He can’t be too upset anymore.”

 

“I mean it when I say I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I was selfish and dumb to run off when you needed me like that. I wish I stayed, but I didn’t, and I am so, unbelievably sorry.”

 

“Jack.” David pulled the hand from his shoulder and gripped it. His fingers were warm between Jack’s. “I was mad at you in the beginning. I was really mad. But…” he paused. “I get it. I get why you had to leave. It would have been selfish of me to make you stay when you needed out so badly. I forgive you.”

 

And Jack hadn’t known how badly he needed to hear that. A tear leaked out of his eye and cut down his cheek. David let go of his hand to wipe it away. “This is all years too late, isn’t it?” Jack choked. “I should have written you.”

 

“That would have been nice, but maybe I never could have moved on.”

 

“Did you? Move on from me, that is.”

 

“A little,” David admitted. “I always missed you. Even when I was drafted, I missed you, but I made it just fine on my own.”

 

There was more to David’s words; they were laced in poorly disguised heartbreak and sadness, but Jack couldn’t ask. Not yet. 

 

“Well, I’m back now. And I swear it, I’m not leaving again.”

 

David took his hand again. “I’m glad you’re back.”

 

“I’m glad you didn’t forget me.”

 

David smiled softly. “I could never.”    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoga wasn't a big deal in america until after ww1 but in 1893 a guy talked about the philosophical side of yoga at he chicago world fair so i stretched that truth a little... uh w burns and stuff in ww1 they used sodium hypochlorite on burns and actually disinfected them and then they didn't understand that u could cut into a wound to drain it (that is so gross) so they'd be all hey man just like stand up, spread that shit around ur body. real good for u.
> 
> big question tho @ myself why do i think someone is gonna come in and nitpick at every little historical detail like it'd be 1 thing to give them iphones but why do i look so deeply into the history of yoga in america???? why?????


	7. 1917

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow my 1st time doing chronological chapters in this fic! ik this bad boy is shorter but oh man, we're about to get into shit i am so excited to write.

Seeing Jack was… interesting. David wasn’t quite sure how he felt. He’d spilled everything to Hannah, relieved to see a familiar face, someone who at least knew a little of Jack’s irresistible pull. The distance between them was almost a comfort; David knew that Jack was alive and safe, but didn’t have to face him.

 

Until he did.

 

Jack looked ill, he walked weird, he breathed loudly, but he was still the Jack David had fallen in love with over and over again. What to say to someone who up and ran away, leaving behind a tight grip over David’s heart? 

 

The sappy language from his younger years came out in full force. David could only remember how to interact with Jack like he was a smitten teenager. But he had changed. Both of them had changed. The comfort of familiarity and rekindled closeness wouldn’t last, but David’d be damned if he didn’t revel in it as long as possible. 

 

“If the nurses tell me to cool this guy down to break his fever but he’s shiverin’ up a damn storm, what do I do?”   
  


Since Jack had to stay upright for as long as possible, he was put to work as an amateur nurse, toting food and supplies back and forth, but occasionally, he’d be given actual medical work to do. Of course, he was completely clueless. 

 

“Make him a cup of tea to warm him up from the inside,” David told him. “The chills won’t last long and you can break his fever then.”

 

And Jack would smile so brightly before hobbling off to do exactly what David said. 

 

David had no medical experience other than dealing with his parents and his own illnesses. Why Jack asked him for advice and not the more experienced nurses, he didn’t understand. 

 

Well, he did, but he didn’t think about it much. 

 

_ I’m staying until you ask me to leave. _

 

If he really meant it, if he really intended to go back to New York by David’s side, then there was only one reason he’d trust David so blindly. David didn’t want to get his hopes up. Was there any hope? Spot and Race had to be so careful just to stay alive. Sarah and Katherine were always in danger. David had debated it, in the past, going to one of those special bars, trying to find someone like him, but he never could. It only took one relationship for him to realize girls weren’t for him. He couldn’t go through the heartbreak he put Amanda through if Jack didn’t really want him in the end. It wasn’t fair. New York wasn’t fair. 

 

God, David would do anything to not go back. He couldn’t drag Jack into his sad little life, his cold apartment, his lonely job. Jack would be giving up so much. It just wasn’t worth it.

 

“You know the guy with the long hair? I brought him water and he showed me this scratch on his leg. It’s pretty nasty and it smells god awful, and it’s swollen and red and I don’t have the slightest idea what to do.”

 

David pursed his lips. “It’s probably infected, then. Clean it with warm water, ask Hannah for some disinfectant. You’ll need to wrap it and change the bandages every few hours.”

 

“Davey I swear, so smart.” And he was off again, holding onto the bed rails for support as he made his way to the nurses station for supplies. 

 

Jack believed in David so much, who was David to crush his views? He couldn’t do anything but suck it up and go back home. He could try for his private school job again, but wouldn’t be hired in the middle of the year. Public schools weren’t so bad, right? They’d stopped using outdoor classrooms years prior, and sure, the students were a million times rowdier, and sure, the bathrooms were breeding grounds for bacteria and disease, but he could do one more semester. 

 

No he couldn’t. But he would. 

 

He would have Jack. That would make it different. He would go home, throat raw from yelling over the sea of children in broken desks, to find Jack, painting or cooking or more likely sitting morosely in the dark regretting following David back to the saddest place on earth. 

 

_ When did I get so pessimistic? _ David used to have dreams, plans for his future. Teaching was fun, but it was never forever. He had taken that job, all those years ago, thinking he would leave sometime in the middle of the school year to run off to Santa Fe with Jack. Those plans had been crushed time and time again until he couldn’t find the energy to even dream anymore. 

 

New York had cut him down every day for thirteen years. 

 

“Uh, there’s a man who was just brought in and he’s real hurt, got a lot of bullets in him, but he won’t let us near him.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“He keeps screaming and trying to hit us.” Jack twisted his mouth. “Seems really afraid,” he said softly. 

 

David sighed. “He’s in shock. It happens. Just, don’t be loud around him.”

 

“We’re being so quiet,” Jack said, an edge of desperation cutting into his voice. “His eyes are glassy. I don’t think he knows where he is.”

 

David sat up. He wished he could get up to help. “Put a blanket on him, make sure he stays laying down.”

 

Jack shook his head. “He’s moving around too much. We gave him a blanket, but he threw it off. Matilda tried to hold him down, but he hit her.”

 

“Ask him if he wants to be touched before touching him, he’s probably too afraid to notice if you’re trying to help or hurt him.”

 

“That’s what Hannah said, but he won’t respond to us.”

  
David thought hard. He had an idea, but it was a long shot. “Is there any soup leftover from lunch?”

 

“I think so, why?”

 

“Heat it up some, put it next to his face. I’m hoping the smell could snap him out of it. He can’t believe what he’s seeing, but maybe he’ll believe what he smells.”

 

Jack laughed a little. “Interesting idea. We’ll try anything, I guess.”

 

A few minutes later, David could faintly smell the meat from the watery soup they’d been given for lunch. A few minutes after that, Jack was back, plopping onto the seat next to David’s bed. “You were right!” he said, eyes bright. “He smelled that soup and shot straight up. Doctors are taking the bullets out now.” He looked to David. “You’re so so smart. How do you know all this?”

 

David shrugged shyly. “I’m really just guessing, I don’t really know anything.”

 

“Yeah but even when you’re guessing you’re smarter than half the nurses here. It’s incredible.”

 

“I think medicine is really interesting.”

 

“Hey, weren’t you thinking of being a doctor one day?”

 

David shook his head. “Maybe one day I was. But there wasn’t ever time to go to school for it.”

 

“So you never went back?”

 

“I did for a bit, after my mom died.” David didn’t meet Jack’s eyes. “But I just needed an actual degree to work at a private school. That was the quickest way to get a good job.”

 

Jack frowned. “Teaching’s not all bad, is it?”

 

“No,” David sighed. “I like my kids enough. I enjoy having Albert’s kid in my class. It’s alright.”

 

“Just alright?”

 

And David couldn’t be the loser, that wimp who had been dumped once and let it ruin his whole life. He felt so childish compared to Jack; the man had formed an entire new life in Santa Fe that was happy and fulfilling. David had spent the last thirteen years wallowing in his own self pity and taking whatever life sent at him. He’d never change. “It’s more than alright,” he lied. “I love my job, honest.”

 

Jack looked like he almost didn’t believe him, but nodded anyway. “I’m glad you’re happy. It’s all I ever wanted.”

 

What a sweet, twisted sentiment. 

 

If Jack had wanted David to be happy, he wouldn’t have left. He wouldn’t have pushed David to work harder, to leave his job, wouldn’t have asked him to abandon his family, wouldn’t have tried to force David to run off without so much as a goodbye to his parents. He wouldn’t have gathered David’s hopes and dreams in his arms just to crush them, hopping on a train and taking with him the tattered remains of the only future David had ever wanted. If Jack had wanted David to be happy, he would’ve come back. 

 

But those were the thoughts of a young man, wracked with disease, overwhelmingly bitter, tragically heartbroken. David didn’t hate Jack for leaving. He hated himself for staying. It had been a long thirteen years since Jack left. He had forgiven him so long ago. 

 

\--

 

David had been sick for nearly four weeks when Jack’s burns were healed. 

 

“I sure thought I’d be down longer,” Jack admitted. “They looked really bad.”

 

“They were bad,” David agreed. “But you were just far enough away that they wouldn’t have killed you.”

 

Jack deflated. “I don’t even remember it,” he said softly. “I know I was near a tank, and I know there were a lot of guys with me, but I can’t remember anything.”

 

“That’s your mind protecting you,” David said kindly. “You might never remember. Not a bad thing though, is it?”

 

“Suppose not,” Jack sighed. “I know I’ll always be a bit curious, thought.”

 

“Better to forget.”

 

“Do you remember the mustard gas?” Jack asked. 

 

David did remember. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the terror the gripped him and the burning he felt in every nerve of his body. “I do.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“They didn’t think I was too bad at first. Albert found me, and I helped the nurses out and took care of you,” David admitted, embarrassed. “But they sent me out again and I passed out almost immediately. Al said I had a seizure.”

 

Jack looked miserable. “Oh David,” he said sadly. “They have to send you home soon.”

 

David sighed, then coughed. Jack cringed at the sound. “I think they will, but they don’t want me sick on a boat.” David diverted his eyes away from Jack. “You know how fast illness spreads on boats.”

 

The silence stretched between them. Jack breathed heavily. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he said again. 

 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” David said back. “I already told you. I forgive you.”

 

“Forgiveness or not, I still hurt you. It wasn’t her fault that she got sick. I should have stayed.”

 

“You should have, but that’s the past. You say you’re going to stay with me now. Stick to that.” David looked up at him again. Jack reached for his hand. His fingers were warm.  

 

“I’m always going to stay. I swear it.”

 

“How are you going to do that if I’m sent home?”

 

“My side ain’t working so good,” Jack said. “Can’t bend down like I could. Nurse said tissue grew back too thick, think I’ll be messed up a while.” He offered a sad smile. “How can I fight if I can’t move?”

 

David had never thought they’d meet up like they did. He always thought he’d finally make his move and leave New York, leave all the awful years behind in that awful city, running off West, and maybe he’d find Jack. But they were in war. David was still sick. Jack wouldn’t ever be the same. They were stuck in a little hospital in France with a highly uncertain future. It wasn’t what he wanted. 

 

David tipped his head back against his pillow. Jack leaned against his bed. They still held hands. 

 

It wasn’t what David wanted, but it would have to suffice. 

 

\--

 

“You don’t have a fever anymore,” Hannah told him, two days later. “You’re still coughing, but I don’t think you’re sick.”

 

“What does that mean for me?” David asked. 

 

“It means you can go home.”

 

It was suddenly reality. New York was waiting for him, looming in the distance. 

 

“Could I stay?” he asked. 

 

Hannah raised an eyebrow. “Stay? Here? And do what?”

 

“Help,” David shrugged. “Be a nurse with you. Learn.”

 

“If you really want to, we could always use more help, but don’t you want to go home?” she asked. 

 

“I don’t know.” David really didn’t know what he wanted. He hated France. He hated New York. 

 

Hannah patted his knee. “You think about it. I know a ship is leaving tomorrow, so I’d advise you to decide by then or the world will have decided for you.”

 

When she walked off, she revealed an angry Jack standing at the foot of his bed. 

 

“You want to stay?” Jack asked. “What about us going together?”

 

“I don’t know, Jack,” David said. “Maybe I want to help. I think I’m good at that.”

 

“Yeah you’re good at it, but you help in New York too,” Jack said. “Is it because of me?”

 

“Jack,” David tried. 

 

“Albert said you didn’t have anyone and I’m not trying to expect anything, but I thought you wanted me with you,” Jack continued. “You just told me that I can make up for leaving by staying with you now.”

 

“Jack.”

 

“I’m trying to fix things with us, David.” Jack was shaking. “I’ve missed you for thirteen fucking years. If you didn’t want us to be friends again you should have told me earlier. I-”

 

“Jack, stop,” David ordered. “We’re too old for this.” His eyes were hard. “Don’t come at me with the insecurities of someone who ran off when he was younger. Act your age and don’t yell at me for wanting to be useful for once in my life.”

 

Jack swallowed. He didn’t speak, instead, sitting down in his chair beside David’s bed. 

 

“I only said I would want to stay because I think I could make a difference here,” David explained, softly. 

 

“You can make a difference anywhere,” Jack said, mirroring David’s tone. “New York is safer. You could get sick here. You’re not worth that risk.”

 

David sighed. He wanted to spill everything, to tell Jack all the details of his miserable life back home. He wanted to say,  _ “when I told you I managed by myself, I did, but just barely, and God, war is awful, but New York scares me more. I wasn’t happy at all,” _ but he didn’t. He wanted to say,  _ “you’re giving up Santa Fe for me. I can’t tell you the real reason I don’t want to go back to New York because it’ll scare you off and then I’ll be alone again,” _ but he didn’t. 

 

He bit his tongue, like he had for all his life, and said, “I’m nervous about what our life will be like there. If Sarah and Katherine will support it. I don’t even know if I have a job anymore.” He closed his eyes. “Maybe I could settle here,” he murmured, then opened his eyes again, locking them with Jack’s. “But I have to go home eventually.”

 

Jack broke out in a hopeful smile, reaching for David’s hand. “So?” 

 

“So, let’s go back to New York.”

 

Dread settled in David’s bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no fun historical fact today, i made everything up this chapter. um, so i outlined the future of this fic and uhhhh theres at least 12 more chapters lol this boy gonna be Phat i hope i finish it !! im in the midst of a very busy time (nov 1 application dealines FUCK) so updates will be even slower for a hot min
> 
> thank u 4 the comments and kudos im a thirsty hoe


	8. 1905

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy thanksgiving! here's 13k in 1 chapter!! i for real didnt intend to wait almost a month to update and i didnt mean to write 13k but i love sarah and i thought i only wanted 1 ch w her pov so i got it all out but idk maybe we'll revisit her... if u want specific povs tell me perhabs i'll write it

One morning, David didn’t wake up.

 

“Les, go get David before you go to school,” Sarah called from the kitchen, hastily packing bread and apples into bags for her and her family. “He’s going to be late.”

 

Les groaned and went to do as told. Sarah tied up the bags and set them in a neat line on the counter. Lunch was small, but it was all they could afford.

 

Suddenly, Les thundered back into the kitchen. “Uh,” he said nervously. “I can’t get him to wake up.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Les rubbed at his neck. “I mean… I think he’s sick.”

 

“Sick?” But Sarah was already dashing toward David’s room, her heart in her throat. Not again. She couldn’t go through it again.

 

A sour smell hit her as she walked into his room. The small, beat up garbage can David kept by his desk had been hastily dragged to beside his bed. She didn’t want to look inside. Even without the smell, she knew David was sick from how terrifyingly pale he was against his sweat dampened sheets. 

 

“Sarah?” Les asked meekly from the doorway. “Should I stay home today?”

 

“No, go to school,” she told him, not turning to face him. She couldn’t face him. “Tell Dad that Dave is sick, but that you both need to go to work. I’ll… I’ll find someone to take care of him.”

 

“I can miss one day,” Les offered, making his way closer to Sarah. “My teachers will understand, I swear one day won’t hurt-” He tried to touch her arm, but she jerked out of reach. 

 

“Don’t.” She sighed. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Just, go talk to Dad. And go to school. Please.”

 

Les didn’t say anything as he turned and left. Sarah sunk to her knees beside David’s bed, holding her head in her hands. Images of her mother, just as sweaty, just as pale, flashed through her mind. Images of her mother, breathing her last breath, lying still in a coffin. David couldn’t go too. She’d lost too much. 

 

Sarah thought of the money in the pink hat box resting in a closet at the end of the hall. They hadn’t touched it. It would be more than enough for a doctor and food and medicine if just Mayer would let them use it. But Sarah understood. It could get them in trouble. How could a family reduced to working half to death six days a week suddenly afford the best care? It was too risky. They couldn’t answer any questions about where it came from. 

 

“Sar-” a cough. David tried again. “Sarah.”

 

She lifted her head and wiped her tears. “Oh, David,” she cooed, as softly as she could. “What happened?”

 

David’s eyes were opened barely to crescents. “I don’t…” He coughed again. It was loud and wet. “I don’t feel good.”

 

“You don’t look good,” she told him. “You have to stay home today.”

 

“I know.” He shut his eyes. Sarah couldn’t tell if his cheeks were wet from sweat or tears. 

 

“I’m going to stay with you,” she said. “You can’t be alone.”

 

“But your- I don’t want to be a burden.” 

 

“Hush, you.” Sarah scolded gently. “You’re never a burden. I want you better.”

 

“I need to tell the principal,” David groaned. “I can’t just not show up.”

 

“I’ll tell him,” Sarah soothed. “I’ll go tell him, and get you some soup. Something warm.”

 

“Can we afford-”

 

“We can afford anything for you.”

 

Sarah would give up dinner. And lunch. And likely, dinner again. Missing two days of work, two desperately needed incomes, would be disastrous. But anything to keep their small family alive. 

 

“Thank you,” David whispered. He knew what she’d be sacrificing. 

 

“Go back to sleep.” Sarah stroked his greasy hair. “I’ll be back soon.”

 

She stayed at his side until his breathing evened as much as it could; still choppy, but slow and asleep. The house was empty, two of the lunch bags had been taken. At least Les had listened. Sarah’s heart ached a bit; Mayer hadn’t even stopped in to see his son. There would always be that touch of tension between David and their father. 

 

Sarah had been in David’s school before. She had seen the conditions; the splintering desks, the wobbly chairs, the dusty chalkboards. She had heard the uncomfortable groaning of the building every time the wind blew, had heard the faint scurrying in the ceiling. She was still shocked. One thing she hated more than anything was how her family had to work in such terrible places. David in this terrible school, in a terrible factory afterwards. Mayer in his own terrible factory, with his still stiff leg. Les at school, one nicer than David’s, but wearing a hand-me-down uniform that didn’t fit quite right, then selling papers on the street in all sorts of weather with no gloves to keep his hands warm. Sarah didn’t fare much better, slouching over a hot sewing machine all hours of the day, fingers bruising and eyes swimming in the dim light. There was no time for rest. 

 

“Where can I find the principal?” Sarah asked a lady at the door. 

 

“Down the hall, to the left.” The woman didn’t even look up. 

 

Sarah put her head down and walked as fast as she could down the dark hallway and through the gray double doors to the left. A sad, tired man sat at a sagging desk with piles of papers scattered all across. Boxes of scarves were discarded in the corners of the room. 

 

“Sir?” Sarah tried. 

 

The principal didn’t look up.

 

“Sir, I’m here on behalf of David Jacobs, he’s too sick to work today.”

 

The principal sighed. “You going to substitute for him?”

 

“No,” Sarah said nervously. “I’m just telling you.”

 

“Whatever.” He sat up and stretched. “Ellen!” he hollered suddenly. 

 

The same lady from the door scurried in, her head still low. “Yes sir?”

 

“You’re covering Jacobs today. He’s on the roof.”

 

Ellen nodded quickly, and scurried out as fast as she had come in. 

 

The principal sighed. Sarah shuffled from foot to foot. She felt so uncomfortable around him. He looked up. “You’re still here?”

 

Sarah dashed out. How David went in there, day after day, enduring the weak building and uncooperative staff, she’d never understand. 

 

She debated going to his factory to explain why he wouldn’t be there, but she knew his boss. She knew he wouldn’t even notice that David was missing. If she brought it up, she’d cause more trouble than good. 

 

She did have to go to her own job, unfortunately. 

 

“Sarah Jacobs.” 

 

“Mr. Davis, I’m so sorry for being late,” Sarah started, but he cut her off. 

 

“I don’t want excuses. Get working. You’re behind.” He pointed at her vacant machine. There were piles of fabric around it. Sarah deflated. 

 

“My brother,” she tried again. “He’s really sick. I have to stay with him.” She bit her lip. “I can’t work today. I’m very sorry.”

 

“Do you want to still have a job here?” Mr. Davis asked, his voice hard. 

 

“Yes sir, I truly do. I just can’t work today, but I swear I’ll be in early tomorrow.” Anxiety bubbled in Sarah’s stomach. She couldn’t abandon David, but her job… he needed money more than care. 

 

A tense minute of nothing. Then, “First thing tomorrow morning.” Mr. Davis turned away. 

 

“Thank you sir, thank you so much.”

 

“Go before I change my mind.”

 

Sarah ran out, embracing the cold air. She let herself breathe in the sharp frost, taking a moment of relief to just be. She had a feeling she wouldn’t get another moment for a long time. 

 

Reality pulled her back in, and she set off to a small restaurant a few doors down to buy the cheapest soup they had. It was more broth than vegetables, but it was hot and that would have to be enough. 

 

On her walk home, she noticed a familiar face sitting idly in an ornate carriage off the side of the street. “Crutchie!”

 

Crutchie looked up at her call and broke into a bright grin. “Sarah! Long time no see!”

 

“I’m so glad I saw you,” she said breathlessly. “I have a huge favor to ask.”

 

Crutchie face dropped. “What’s wrong?”

 

“David’s sick, and I can only stay with him today. I need someone to look after him when I go back to work.” She swallowed. “Please.”

 

“Of course,” Crutchie said immediately. “I’ll always help.”

 

Sarah had never been more grateful for someone in her life. She almost started crying. “Thank you.”

 

When the pair arrived back at home, David was still asleep. Sarah had been out later than she wanted; it was almost lunchtime and David hadn’t even had any breakfast. “Davey,” she said softly, holding a small bowl of soup. Crutchie stood behind her. “Davey, lunchtime, wake up darling.”

 

David blinked awake slowly, squinting his eyes to focus behind Sarah. His face lit up. “Jack,” he gasped, lurching up in bed, shaky arms holding him up. “You came back,” he said tearfully. 

 

Sarah turned to look at Crutchie. His eyes were weary, the lines in his face making him look so much older. The heartbreak Sarah felt encompassing her chest was reflected in his expression. 

 

“David,” she said softly, turning back to face her brother. “Crutchie’s here with me.”

 

“Crutchie?” David blinked again. His eyes cleared. “Oh."

 

“David,” Sarah said, voice thick. “I have lunch.”

 

“I’m not hungry,” he said, slowly laying back down. His cheeks were flushed red, stark against the pallor of his skin. 

 

“You need to eat,” Crutchie spoke up. “We need you to get better.”

 

“What’s the point?” David asked, and Sarah couldn’t hold it in anymore. She stood, handed the soup to Crutchie, and went outside. 

 

Life  _ sucked _ . She couldn’t bear it herself, couldn’t bear hearing about how David couldn't take it either. She was furious. How  _ dare- _ She took a calming breath. How could Jack just up and leave like that? How could he claim to love David, to plan their future together, and still run off in the middle of tragedy? David deserved better. Les deserved better. Crutchie deserved better. Fuck,  _ Sarah _ deserved better. Jack thought he could run off and everything would be okay. He didn’t realize how much he left behind; the woman who had clothed him, fed him, cared for him in his later teen years, the family that had kept him off the streets, who had loved him so unconditionally. It was selfish. So, unbelievably selfish. Sarah Jacobs hated Jack Kelly. She’d never hated anyone more. 

 

It started snowing. 

 

Sarah tipped her head back, closing her eyes and letting the small flurries brush across her skin. She thought of David teaching outside in the snow, of Les later that day, hawking papers with numb fingers. Then she thought of Jack, in sunny Santa Fe, and hoped he was miserable. 

 

Slowly, Sarah trudged inside, back up the steps, letting the warm air of home draw her in like a hug. A faint crackling from the living room said Crutchie had built a fire, and she walked in to David sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, cradling the soup bowl in his shaking hands. Crutchie was spread on the floor beside the fire, warming his bad leg. Sarah smiled. 

 

“You better?” Crutchie asked kindly. 

 

“Yeah.” Sarah sat next to David. He leaned on her. Heat radiated through all their layers of clothing. “Hey, you,” she whispered, just for him. “You eating?”

 

“Trying,” he answered honestly. “Not as good as ma’s krupnik.”

 

“She did make that well,” Sarah agreed, keeping her voice low. “She’d be proud of you.”

 

“For being sick?” David laughed softly, but it morphed into coughs.

 

Sarah rubbed his back. “For working so hard. For staying with us. I’m proud of you. You’ve been so strong.”

 

David nuzzled further into Sarah’s neck. She put an arm around him and tried not to think about him in a similar position with Jack.  _ He must be so sad. _

 

“I’m proud of you, too,” he said. 

 

“What have I done?”

 

“You’ve been stronger than any of us.” Sarah felt him smile against her skin. “She had pretty big shoes to fill, but you’ve done an incredible job.”

 

Tears pricked at Sarah’s eyes. “Thank you, Davey.”

 

“Thank you too.”

 

Sarah wanted to laugh at David’s feverish words, but she sat still and took the empty soup bowl from his hands, setting it on the table next to the couch. They both fell asleep, warm by the fire, tucked into each other on the couch, just like when they were kids. 

 

Sarah woke up to Mayer sitting on the couch beside her. “Dad,” she whispered, hoarse from sleep. “When did you get home?”

 

“Just now,” he answered lowly. “I brought dinner.”

 

In his lap was a brown paper bag, a bit greasy on the bottom, but it was warm and it smelled absolutely divine. “What is it?”

 

“A roast from the market down the road.” Mayer opened the bag, and Sarah’s breath stopped. 

 

There were two sizeable platters of meat and potatoes and vegetables, buttered and salted to perfection. It was more than they could afford. It was nicer than anything they had eaten since, well. Since November. Sarah’s mouth watered, and she swallowed hard. “Dad,” she said. “How did we afford this?”

 

“We’ll make do,” he said. 

 

She looked up. “Did you use… the hat box money?”

 

Mayer scowled. “No. Sarah, we can’t use that.”

 

Worry blossomed in her chest. “Dad, we have to pay for a doctor for David. I know for a fact we cannot afford all this food; how can we manage to pay for a doctor and still eat?”

 

“I’ll go without. This was my decision, this is my house, Sarah.” Mayer gave her a pointed look. “I’m still your father. You don’t pull all the weight here.”

 

Sarah rolled her eyes. She felt childish, with a soft anger simmering in her, spiked by the hot weight of David still asleep on her side, but her father was wrong. Mayer wouldn’t go without; he’d still eat the same lunch and the same dinner. Maybe he’d get a smaller apple. But Sarah would be the one who really suffered from his spending. She’d go without lunch, she’d skip dinner working two shifts in one day. She’d go home, drink a cup of hot water, and do the same the next day. Mayer had lived his whole life through struggle and near poverty, but the women in his life always protected him from the real pain. Sarah supposed she’d keep doing the same. 

 

“Thanks.” She sighed. “Is Les home yet?”

 

“He’s up in his room. Selling was slow today.” Mayer leaned back, setting the food on the small table beside the couch. “He’s doing homework.”

 

“I should call him down for dinner,” Sarah said. “Would you like me to set the table?”

 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” Mayer smiled. “It’s been a long day.”

  
“No kidding,” Sarah muttered, easing out from under David, placing him precariously against a tattered cushion. She grabbed the bag of food and stepped over Mayer’s outstretched legs. He didn’t move them out of her way.

 

From the kitchen, Sarah could hear Mayer speak softly to wake David up. She moved carefully so she could listen. 

 

“David, time to get up.”

 

David groaned. 

 

“Sarah’s setting up for dinner. I brought home a roast.”

 

“‘S it dinner time?” David slurred. 

 

“Sure is. I think you slept all day.”

 

“Where’s Jack?”

 

There was a tense moment of silence. Sarah moved to step in, to say something to David or to Mayer so there wouldn’t be a scene, but Mayer spoke up. “Jack left, David,” he said, not unkindly.

 

“But…” David coughed. “I swear I saw him earlier,” he said, absentmindedly wistful. 

 

“Your friend was here, the one with the crutch,” Mayer supplied. “Maybe you’re thinking of him.”

 

“Crutchie? Guess so.”

 

Sarah resumed setting the table. The heavy plates, remnants of their lives across the sea, clinked uncomfortably loud against the wood.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Honestly awful.” David’s voice was scratchy. “I don’t know if I can eat dinner, Dad.”

 

“It’s good for you. At least try.”

 

“I suppose.”

 

“We need you to get better, David.” In a rare moment of tenderness, Mayer spoke gently. Sarah peered around the doorway, and he had his arm around David. “We don’t want to lose anyone else. You know I love you.”

 

David closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Sarah’s heart was in her throat. They hadn’t had a good moment together in years; if they could talk without snappy remarks or yelling it counted as a win. 

 

She turned to set up the table. 

 

She missed her old family, before her dad harbored such a resentment against such a small, unknown part of David’s life, before Les felt like he had something to prove and tried to overwork himself, before her mom died, before she felt the weight of the world pressing on her shoulders. Back when Jack would climb in through the window and try to refuse the extra food Esther would push onto his plate. When he and David would sneak up to the roof, and Sarah would feel a sweet bliss in her heart knowing that her brother had found someone, that he could let go of the torment he had long confided in her about. Those were the good days. But the good days were forever in the past. 

 

Sarah swallowed and called for everyone to eat.    
  


Dinner was less awkward than it should have been. Les had handed Sarah a fistful of coins, muttering about a bad day selling, before plopping in his seat. Mayer had to help David in, and Sarah had to let him lean on her through the whole meal. They each said a small blessing, and ate peacefully. The air wasn’t tense, the food wasn’t cold, the chairs weren’t as uncomfortable as they always seemed to be. Even with David so sick and with money so tight, Sarah couldn’t help but smile into her potatoes. 

 

Once all the food was cleared away, Les scraping every scrap off his plate, Sarah started washing dishes. Les tried to help, but she shooed him off. “Do your homework. I got this.”

 

“Are you sure?” She ruffled his hair with a soapy hand and giggled as he shrieked. “Now I really don’t want to help,” he laughed. “Thanks, Sarah.”

 

“Goodnight, kid.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “I’m fifteen, not a kid.”

 

“Sure thing, kid.”

 

As Les went back to his room, Mayer led David back to bed. Sarah watched with a big smile, so unbelievably happy that there was no anger between them. It surely wouldn’t last, but maybe they’d talk when David was better. 

 

Washing dishes was almost therapeutic; the repetitiveness of circles over glass, the warm water, the fragrant soap. Sarah was left alone with her thoughts, and let her mind just be. Taking over her mother’s role while still working to support her family and pay the steep debts from Esther’s sickness was taxing on body and soul. She had to appreciate the small things.  

 

It was late when Sarah made her way back upstairs, far too late for her to be up considering when she had to be at work the next morning, but she wasn’t weary. She walked into David’s room, stopping to smile at Les slumped over half asleep on the floor next to David’s bed. 

 

“Les,” she said. “I thought I said to do homework.”

 

Les startled awake, dropping the book that was in his lap. “Huh?”

 

“Bedtime.” Sarah rubbed his back and pushed him toward his own room. She turned to David, who was still awake and sat up in bed. “You didn’t eat much.”

 

“I’m sick.”

 

“Well duh.” She rolled her eyes and sat next to him. “But you still need to eat.”

 

“I’ll eat when I’m better.”

 

Sarah pursed her lips and  _ tsked _ . “I’ll make sure Crutchie gets you to eat tomorrow.”

 

“So he’s coming over tomorrow too?” David asked.

 

“I sure hope so. I asked him to,” Sarah said. “I have to go back to work. We can’t all be sick.”

 

“Hey.” David met her eyes. “Don’t work too hard. You could get sick too.”

 

“If I do I’ll make sure I have you and Crutchie looking after me.” She smiled. 

 

“About Crutchie…” David bit his lip. “I really swear I saw Jack earlier.”

 

Sarah looked at him with sad eyes. “You thought Crutchie was Jack.” She grabbed his clammy hands. “Jack may be gone, but you still have people who love you and want to look after you. Hey, you and Dad had a nice moment, right?”

 

David shrugged. “I think he likes me more now that Jack’s gone. Doesn’t have to think about his kid being-” He cut himself off. “It’s so frustrating. He doesn’t even know.”

 

“I know. I get it.” Sarah squeezed his hands. Her fingers were still warm from washing dishes. “He’s just looking out for you. Doesn’t want you getting hurt.”

 

David scoffed. “ _ Mom _ didn’t want me getting hurt. Dad just doesn’t want people to think less of him.”

 

Sarah sighed. She felt she did that a lot lately. “It’s time for you to go to sleep. You can’t get better if you stay up all night.”

 

“Goodnight, Sarah.” She stood, but he didn’t let go of her hands. “Thank you for everything. You’re the best sister anyone could ask for.”

 

“Goodnight, David. See you tomorrow.”

 

Her room was too cold. She piled on the blankets, and fell into a fitful sleep. 

 

Sarah got up before the sun had even started shining rays over the horizon. She packed lunches for Les, Mayer, and Crutchie, and wrote a note for David. Nobody was up when she left, clutching her own paper sack with nothing more than a stale biscuit and and old glass bottle of water. 

 

Work was grueling. She made dress after dress, stitched countless hems, sewed on thousands of buttons. Coworkers came and went, some going home to families, some coming in after school. Sarah never left. She ate her biscuit at her machine, pinching off small bites with sore fingers in between garments. A mantra played on repeat in her brain, perfectly in time with the hum of sewing machines and chatter of women around her. 

 

_ I do this for them. I do this for them. I do this for them. I do this for them. _

 

She did everything for her family. The more she worked, the more money she made, and the more money she made, the quicker she could afford a doctor for David. 

 

_ I do this for them. _

 

Friday had phased into Saturday by the time she stumbled home, woozy and chilled to the bone. Crutchie was still awake, curled up on an armchair beside the fireplace that contained nothing more than gently popping embers. 

 

“You’re up late,” she commented quietly, hanging up her old coat, flexing her fingers. “How’s David?”   
  
“Asked for you a lot,” Crutchie said. “I made sure he drank a lot of water. He ate a little cheese.” He smiled. “Even sick as he is, managed to talk my ear off. We didn’t call him Walking Mouth for nothing.”

 

Sarah cracked a smile across her aching cheeks. “I’m glad he can still at least do that. Thank you for staying with him today.”

 

“Are you working tomorrow?”

 

“We’re all off Saturday. Les will stay with him Sunday when Dad and I go to work, and Monday, well.” Sarah bit her lip. “I hope he’s better by then.”

 

Crutchie looked down guiltily. “If he’s not, I don’t think I can stay with him again. I should go back to work, I’m sorry.”

 

“Oh, I understand, don’t apologize,” Sarah reassured. “I can’t thank you enough for the past two days. Your help was more than enough.”

 

“I just wish I could help more.” A pause. “Maybe it wouldn’t be this bad if I had stopped him.”

 

_ God _ , Sarah was tired of people talking about Jack. She just wanted to forget him. 

 

“You can sleep here tonight,” she said in lieu of responding. “You’ll catch your death out in this cold so late.”

 

“You were out in it,” Crutchie pointed out. 

 

“That’s different,” Sarah sighed. “Go to sleep, Crutchie. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

He settled on the couch and she made her way to her bedroom, but not heading straight to sleep. Sarah sat in her bed, the mattress thin and worn but all they could afford back as fresh immigrants with just enough money to buy a good home or furnish it well but not both. It was meant to be temporary; they’d planned on Mayer striking rich with some fancy job, but America was not the golden country anyone had envisioned. Nobody wanted to hire a Jew. So, the temporary mattress became permanent. The threadbare coats lasted more winters than they should have. The moon beamed down upon her raggedy form, highlighting the soft rips along the hem of her shirt. 

 

Exhaustion tugged at the skin under her eyes. Sarah yawned, big and quiet, but still did not sleep. The sky called to her. She wished so desperately that she could fly up there, touch the stars, land on the moon, hold her mother tight in her arms once more. Maybe from up so high she could see the whole world, maybe she could fix all their problems. Being an angel couldn’t be so bad, could it? Dancing across craters, leaving her footprints, laughing heartily when people mentioned the man on the moon because really she was the  _ woman _ on the moon, and it wasn’t quite a difference, but just enough for laughter. 

 

Harsh coughs ripped Sarah from her dazed dreamings, sending her tumbling back into the reality of her life. No, she would not be an angel dancing on the moon. Nobody could go to the moon. She was stuck on earth, and she wouldn’t leave until her family was okay again. She finally went to sleep

 

Saturday, Sunday, and then Monday rolled around with bright sunrises alongside clammy skin and fevered coughing. David seemed to be doing better by Sunday when Sarah arrived back home, earlier than normal but still late, but by dawn, he was a shivering mess once more. Sarah swallowed her fear, sent Les to school, and set off to apologize to her boss but she had to miss just one more day.

 

Then, her.

 

“Sarah! Sarah Jacobs!”

 

Sarah almost didn’t hear her, so wrapped up in her own mind. 

 

“Hey, Sarah, wait up!”

 

Sarah stopped, and turned. “Katherine!” she gasped. 

 

Katherine Plumber, well, Pulitzer, Sarah supposed, had grown up from the self-assured teen reporter Sarah had last seen her as into quite possibly the most beautiful woman on the planet. She had an almost distinguished air; not snooty, but not someone who had to work six days a week just to almost stay afloat. Sarah smiled despite her embarrassment. 

 

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Katherine asked, stopping right at Sarah’s side. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

 

“I have to go talk to my boss.” Sarah jutted her thumb awkwardly in the direction of her job. “I can’t work today.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Katherine frowned a little. “Is everything okay?”

 

And Sarah didn’t want to just unload everything on this woman she hadn’t seen in years, but, “It’s just, David’s sick, and I can’t leave him alone, so I can’t work, and he can’t either, and we can’t pay anyone to stay with him, so I really need to talk to my boss. David’s been alone for too long.” She tried to lighten her tone. “Don’t know what that clutz could get up to without me.”

 

Katherine reached for Sarah’s hand. Her pink gloves were softer than clouds. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

 

“Sorry to just blurt all my business.” Sarah gripped Katherine’s fingers with her own frozen ones. “How have you been?”

 

“I don’t want to keep you,” Katherine said instead of answering. “But I do have no plans for today.” The corner of her mouth quirked up. “If you wanted, I could stay with David.”

 

Sarah swallowed. “You’re serious?” Her hands grew lax in Katherine’s grip. 

 

“I’m serious.” Katherine let their hands fall apart. “I haven’t seen David since November, I believe. I’m afraid I’ve been a bad friend to him.” She twisted her mouth up. “I couldn’t face him after knowing all that was happening.”

 

“But you’ll see him now?”

 

“Of course.”

 

And Sarah wanted to cry, to weep real tears of gratitude, tenderness, and thanks. “You remember where our house it?”

 

“For all the times I walked with Jack to and from, how could I forget?” She laughed, but it was strained.

 

Sarah was  _ so _ tired of Jack.

 

“Could you go without me walking you? If I went I’d be late for work and my boss would rather me never show up than be late.” Sarah shoved her hands in her pocket. Katherine’s eyes followed her movements. 

 

“I think I can make it on my own. Should I wait for you to return after working?”

 

“Uh,” Sarah said, unsure. “Les and my father will get home before I do. If you want to wait, you can, but I’ll be back late.”

 

“Late?” Katherine furrowed her brow and pulled out her pocket watch. “Sarah, it’s barely seven, and you’ll be back late? How late?”

 

“You’ll likely be asleep.” Sarah glanced at the time as well. “I really do have to go. You’re welcome to anything we have, just please take care of him.” She took a few steps back. Katherine looked confused. “Thank you so much.”

 

Later, during her brief break for lunch, Sarah reflected on the encounter and kicked herself ten times over for being the most awkward being on the planet. “Idiot,” she muttered to herself, viscously ripping the tough crust off her bread with her teeth. “Should have walked her there.”

 

It turned out in the end that for just one day, late meant nine o’clock rather than eleven or twelve. Sarah very nearly ran home, skipping up to her door and unlocking it with ferocity. Then, she stopped dead in her tracks. There, in the living room, talking to her father and to Katherine, stood a doctor. A real live doctor, fancier than the ones they had paid for before, with a real bag and real materials to work with. 

 

“Ah, Sarah,” Mayer said, eyes shadowed and smile forced. “Smart of you to order a doctor. Katherine here already handed off the money you gave her to pay for him.”

 

“Yeah, I uh…” Sarah stammered. “I did that.”

 

“Of course you did,” Katherine said, eyes holding an intense unnamed emotion Sarah wished she understood. “He’s just finishing telling us about David."

 

“His physical took longer than I wanted,” the doctor said, looking only at Katherine. “He just has the flu, but it is a terrible strain that has been passed around all the factories. His immune system is weak, so it will take him a while to shake it. I have medicine I can give, but it will cost extra.”

 

Mayer deflated. “I don’t think we can afford medicine.”

 

Sarah looked desperately to Katherine.

 

“Sarah gave me enough money,” Katherine piped up. “She got an advance in wages. I could give it to him right now to pay for medicine.” 

 

The doctor glanced between the two women. “Alright,” he said. “I just need to write up a prescription and talk to the pharmacists I work with before I know the price.”

 

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” Katherine told him, but her eyes were locked with Sarah’s in a piercing gaze. “Come back at noon and we can settle everything.”

 

“Will do.” The doctor readjusted the strap on his shoulder. “See you tomorrow at noon, Ms. Plumber.”

 

He moved past Mayer and sidestepped Sarah, walking out the door without another goodbye. Mayer watched his retreating form before sighing, the breath coming from deep in his body. “I’ll be heading up to bed now.” He blinked, and turned to Katherine. “Thank you for your help. Safe travels home.”

 

It was all silent in the living room as Mayer departed. Katherine spoke first, breaking the inch of tension before it could build. “I just wanted to help.”

 

Sarah sagged. “I understand.” She tried for a smile. “I really appreciate it.”

 

“You really should sit down,” Katherine told her worriedly. “You look like you could fall right over.”

 

“I probably could,” Sarah huffed, dropping all decorum and flopping against the couch. 

 

“You weren’t kidding when you said you’d be home late.” Katherine sat next to her. Sarah could feel her body heat through the distance. 

 

“It’s only nine.”

 

“Far too late to be out working, I’d hope.”

 

Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’m actually home quite early. Is David still up?”

 

Katherine shook her head. “He’s been in and out all day. I think he’s asleep for the night. The doctor finished up a bit before you arrived.”

 

“Thank you for watching him.” Sarah tipped her head back and closed her eyes. She thought she could feel Katherine watching, but didn’t have the energy to open her eyes again. “I really don’t want Les to miss school. He’d get it in his head that he can skip whenever he wants.”

 

“Of course.” Katherine swallowed loudly. “I really do mean it when I say I miss him. We used to be so close, but I was selfish and never reached out after Jack left.”

 

Sarah couldn’t help but make a face. She heard Katherine huff out a laugh.

 

“What’s that look for?” she giggled.

 

Sarah mustered the strength to lift her head back up. “I’m so fucking tired of Jack,” she deadpanned. “He left David right when our mother was dying and doesn’t have the balls to write and apologize. David’s sad, Crutchie’s sad, Les is sad, and I’m damn tired of it.” She didn’t hold anything back. “It was a dick move and I don’t care to hear or think about him ever again.”

 

“I see your point,” Katherine said with a barely contained smile. “I’d be tired of him too.” A pause. “How has David been holding up? Before getting sick, I mean.”

 

Sarah slumped a sigh. “It’s been tough. We’re all having to work a lot because caring for Mom kind of drained our resources, so he doesn’t have much time to wallow, but when he does, oh boy.” She shook her head. “He’s been really down. I wish I could help him, but I can’t think of how.” She turned to face Katherine with sad eyes. “What do you do when your soulmate leaves you?”

 

“If only I knew.” Katherine seemed to hesitate, but she placed her soft hand over Sarah’s overworked fingers. “How have you been doing, then?”

 

“What?” Nobody had asked Sarah that yet.

 

“Well you aren’t in a good situation either. How are you feeling?” Katherine gazed at her with such earnest eyes Sarah didn’t think she could look away. 

 

Sarah stopped to think. She’d run from her feelings for months. It wasn’t the time to face them. “I’m holding up,” she settled on. “Jack wasn’t my boyfriend.”

 

“But Esther was your mom.”

 

Silence stretched on. “I should be heading to bed,” Sarah said tightly. “If you want to sleep here, you can.”

 

“It is late to be walking home,” Katherine conceded. “I can take the couch.”

 

“You can take my bed,” Sarah argued. “You paid for a doctor. You deserve a bed.”

 

“Sarah, I did nothing but sit around and read all day. You’ve worked so hard. Sleep in your own bed.”

 

“Alright,” she said. “But next time, you take my bed.”

 

Katherine’s eyes twinkled and warmed Sarah’s chest. “We’ve got a deal.”

 

-

 

The next weeks ran smoothly; David started taking a syrupy liquid before bed that made him hilariously loopy but seemed to clear up his cough and lightened his fever, Sarah came home in time for dinner almost every day, Les finished selling with heavy pockets and a bright smile, and Katherine had begun bringing fresh scones over for breakfast. Sarah felt like she was walking on air when she headed home on a Wednesday, nearing on three weeks of her newfound friendship with Katherine. The stars twinkled brighter than normal, and her breath fogged up nicely every time she exhaled. It was a good night.

 

Until she got home.

 

“Where’s Katherine?” she asked Mayer. 

 

“I sent her home,” he said, and something in his tone made Sarah flinch. “Come sit.”

 

Sarah nervously lowered herself onto a chair opposite her father, resting her hands uncomfortably in her lap. “Is everything alright?” she asked. “Is David okay?”

 

“David is fine.”

 

“Dad?”

 

“I know that Katherine uses her own money on us,” Mayer spoke lowly. “And I don’t support it. You pay her back or we look terrible to everyone in our neighborhood.”

 

“Dad, she wants to help.” Sarah wrung her hands.

 

“I wonder why she does,” he said dryly. “I wish it was for David’s sake, but I think something else is at play.”

 

Sarah’s blood ran cold.  _ No. _ They were just friends. 

 

“After everything with that boy… I expect better from you, Sarah. Don’t accept any more money. We can make it on our own.”

 

And suddenly, she couldn’t help it. It all came pouring out, hot lava of rage and her mouth was the volcano, spewing every which way. “Why don’t we accept any money? We’re poor, Dad, we are so fucking poor it’s unbelievable! We work so hard, nobody respects us, we get next to nothing for our labor!” she yelled. “Mom died, Dad, she died, she’s dead, she’s never coming back, and David’s going to follow in her footsteps without money!”

 

“Do you know what we face when we have money?” he exploded right back. “Those greedy Jews, hogging all the cash, stealing from real hard working Americans! Those dirty immigrants, selfish and cruel. We can’t accept charity because that makes people hate us.”

 

Sarah stood so forcefully her chair screeched out from under her. “Who gives a shit how people see us?” she yelled. “I would rather have my brother live than have old Mr. Peterson from down the road respect my diligence!”

 

“We can’t take charity from people like her, I refuse it!” Mayer roared, standing to tower over Sarah. He lifted a fist and she did her best not to cower. “I catch you accepting money from her again and it’s over for you.”

 

“What do you think you’re going to do to me?” Sarah asked, trying not to let fear seep into her words. “I’m a grown woman!”

 

“Whose roof do you sleep under every night?” he asked cooly, angrily. “Who paid for the bed you lay in? The clothes on your back, the food on the table? Who paid for that table?”

 

“Me!” she cried, frustration and pure fury pooling in her stomach. “I did! David did! David works two jobs! He’s been working since he was seventeen! I’ve been working that long! Les stands in the freezing cold for hours after school just to make money! I stay at my job way longer than anyone else just to get enough money to buy food to pack for your lunch, Dad! I pay for the food you eat, I pay for your clothes, I pay for the blankets you pile on in that bed that’s too big because you were too selfish to let anyone help so Mom  _ died! _ ” And she knew she went too far, way too far, but she didn’t feel guilty. Her chest heaved with each breath, her throat scratched with the force of her words, and her cheeks were icy from tracks of angry tears, but she felt no guilt. 

 

Mayer looked like he had been shot.

 

Sarah closed her eyes and evened her breaths. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to go there.” She blinked. “I’m sorry we have to deal with all this. But I’m not turning away help. I don’t want David to die.”

 

Mayer didn’t respond. He turned and walked to his room, closing the door and clicking the lock. Sarah was left behind, her screams still echoing about the room. She felt so alone. 

 

Les appeared in the doorway. “Sarah?” he said meekly.

 

“Go to sleep.”

 

“But-”

 

“Please.”

 

The defeat in her tone must have told Les to obey more than her words, and he slunk back to his room. Sarah stayed standing in her little spot, eyes open and staring at nothing, unblinking, unmoving, until her knees started shaking and she sunk to the ground.

 

After a few steadying breaths, Sarah rose, and walked straight out the door. It was barely eight thirty, but the bright crisp feel of the night she had skipped home in just an hour before had dissipated into despair. The February air pricked at her arms, and she realized she’d left her coat at home.

 

Partway through her walk, Sarah realized she had no idea where Katherine lived, and it took all her strength not to fall over again. She just wanted- someone. Not Les, too young to understand, not David, too sad for empathy, not Crutchie, not Finch, not any of the boys she barely knew through her brother and his flighty ex. Katherine was all she had to herself. 

 

Mayer’s words repeated in her mind.  _ I think something else is at play. _ She hadn’t thought of it. Hadn’t let herself. But Katherine, with her wispy curls and her warm pink gloves, the way her eyes lit up and how her smile was so so wide… Sarah would be kidding herself if she said she wasn’t at least a little smitten. 

 

Fate stepped in.

 

Sarah was more focused on making her unsteady feet walk that she didn’t even notice the inevitable collision until it happened. From the ground, she looked up, and there was Katherine, standing, dusting dead grass off of her magenta skirt. She was angelic.

 

“Katherine,” she said miserably, and the other woman finally noticed who she’d bumped into. 

 

“Sarah!” she gasped, delighted. “I was out looking for you.” She reached out a hand, covered by the very pink gloves Sarah loved so much, and pulled her up.

 

“You were?”

 

“I stopped by your job, but Mr. Davis said you had already left. I was hoping to catch you before you made it home.” She didn’t let go of Sarah’s hands. “Your father sent me home, and I wanted to warn you.” Then she frowned. “Where’s your coat?”

 

The reminder of the cold was the final blow, and Sarah started bawling.

 

“Shit,” Katherine breathed, and quickly pulled Sarah into her arms. “Where can we go?”

 

“I can’t go home,” Sarah sobbed, muffled by Katherine’s wool coat. “Anywhere but home.”

 

“Let’s go to mine,” Katherine said, pulling Sarah tighter for one more squeeze. “Come on darling, take my coat. We’ll go to my place.”

 

Katherine, surprisingly, lived in a small apartment, near the top of the building. Sarah was mortified to pass by other tenants with her tear streaked face as they climbed the many flights of stairs, but Katherine’s warm presence soothed her. By the time they reached Katherine’s room, Sarah was more focused on her out of shape huffing than on the anxiety pulsing with her blood.

 

“Take off your shoes and get in bed,” Katherine said. “I’m going to make tea and crank up the heat.” She paused. “If you want to change, I have pajamas in my closet. Wear anything you’d like.”

 

Sarah didn’t want to spread filth in Katherine’s pristine bed, so she shimmied out of her old dress and pulled on a thick sweater and flannel pants she had only seen her brother wearing. “Are these men’s pants?” she called, tying the frayed string in the front to keep them up.

 

“I can only seem to find nightgowns shopping for women’s pajamas, so I go to the men’s section,” Katherine called back. “Aren’t they comfortable?”

 

“Incredibly.”

 

Katherine’s bed was just as comfortable, and Sarah never wanted to leave. She knew she’d have to return home before going to sleep; she had to make sure David took his medicine and she had to prepare lunches for her family, but she wished so desperately to stay all night. Katherine in the doorway with two steaming mugs pulled at her motivation even more. 

 

“Hold on as I change too,” Katherine said, putting down the mugs, and pulling out an outfit similar to Sarah’s. Instead of moving to a bathroom, like Sarah expected, she unbuttoned her dress and let it fall right there in the middle of the room, where Sarah could see every curve of her body. She blushed and looked away, trying to let Katherine preserve some dignity. Katherine glanced at her flushed cheeks and laughed. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m not ashamed of my body.”   


 

Nothing to be ashamed of,” Sarah said absentmindedly, not processing that she spoke aloud until she glanced back at Katherine. They locked eyes, and the air electrified. 

 

Sarah could see goosebumps across Katherine’s bare arms, and felt some prick up on her own skin, even under the layers of thick flannel. Maroon sleeves covered Katherine’s arms slowly, and black pants were pulled up maddeningly slow. Sarah cleared her throat, and some of the energy settled into warm comfort. 

 

“Take your tea,” Katherine said softly, and Sarah wordlessly complied. 

 

In bed, there was plenty of room so they could be apart, but Katherine plastered herself to Sarah’s side, and neither made to separate. “You feeling better?” Katherine asked.

 

“Yeah,” Sarah breathed, holding the mug to her lips, and breathing in the aroma. The drink was stronger than she was used to; her tea tended to be diluted until it was almost flavorless. “Thank you.”

 

“Always.” They drank in silence. “Care to tell why you were crying in the street?” Sarah looked to her knees, covered in the quilt, but Katherine cupped her cheek and lifted her head. “Hey.” Her eyes were just loving enough that Sarah opened up.

 

“My dad and I fought.”

 

“So you made it home before I found you?”

 

Sarah nodded. “He’s mad about accepting money from you. He’s worried that people will think we’re greedy Jews if they see you helping us.” She twisted her mouth. “He acts like people don’t already think that of us.”

 

“Hey,” Katherine said again, but harder. 

 

“It’s true,” Sarah defended. “It’s just how it is. If people already want to call us horrible names and say we’re selfish, why not give them a reason to?”

 

“I don’t support your way of thinking, but I do support you,” Katherine said. “I’ll help however I can.”

 

“Why?” Sarah asked before her brain caught up with her filter. 

 

Katherine tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean,” Sarah said, feeling she might as well ask the question always in the front of her mind, “why do you want to help so badly? Is this all guilt for Jack leaving David? Do you feel some obligation to us?”

 

“Sarah.” Katherine looked affronted. “This isn’t some obligation to David because of Jack. You said you were sick of hearing about him, and I am too.”

 

“Then  _ why, _ Katherine?”

 

“I’m doing this for you.” The honesty in her eyes was overwhelming. 

 

“Me?”

 

“I’ve always thought you were special,” Katherine admitted. “And now I know you are.”

 

“We barely know each other.”

 

“I know you enough to know you deserve a break.”

 

“That’s the only reason?”

 

“Why else did you and your dad fight?” Katherine asked in return. 

 

“He hated Jack and David together,” Sarah said. “He didn’t know they were… anything… but he hated Jack.”

 

Katherine understood. 

 

“He’s right then.”

 

“I can’t do this right now,” Sarah told her. “I’m sorry, i have to focus on David first.”

 

“I get it,” Katherine said, no hint of malice in her voice. “I’m by your side, no matter what. No expectations.”

 

“I wish I could stay here.”

 

“Then do it.” Katherine shrugged, like it was that simple.

 

Sarah shook her head. “I have my family. I have to take care of them.”

 

“When will you let me take care of you?”

 

Sarah bit her lip. “When it’s safe to.” 

 

The transition from sitting pressed against each other to cuddling was slow yet purposeful. Katherine finished her tea and set it on the table beside her bed, letting her arms creep around Sarah’s middle, holding her in a gentle hug. Sarah kept her mug cradled against her chest, reveling in the ceramic warmth paired with the tingling Katherine’s touch brought. She’d never been held in that sort of way before. Boys were never appealing, and knowing her father’s beliefs kept her away from girls all through her teens. She feared her inexperience would scare Katherine away, but in the moment, she let herself sink into the touch. Their legs tangled, and Sarah turned her head to rest in the crook of Katherine’s neck.

 

“Go to sleep,” Katherine mumbled, gently pulling Sarah’s mug and setting it next to her own. “I’ll wake you in the morning.”

 

“David’s medicine,” Sarah murmured, but made no move to get up. Her eyes fluttered closed. 

 

“I already gave it to him,” Katherine soothed. “He’s fine, Les is fine. We’ll pick them up some lunch in the morning.” She pressed a kiss to Sarah’s forehead. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

 

So, Sarah let herself sink into the most comfortable sleep of her life. 

 

-

 

After work the next day, Sarah once again returned home to her father waiting for her and no Katherine in sight. 

 

“What now?” she asked, frustrated. 

 

Mayer didn’t look at her. “I noticed Les had a better lunch than normal.”

 

“I splurged on groceries,” she lied.

 

“Don’t spend more than necessary,” he said. “We don’t have much money.”

 

“I know that, Dad,” she scowled. “What’s with you being stingy now?”

 

“I’m not stingy,” he snapped. “I’m realistic. You just scolded me for buying a nice dinner. David’s doctor was expensive.” A lump formed in Sarah’s chest. “We can’t rely on your income, and David’s not making anything.”

 

“He’s getting better,” she defended.

 

“Not quick enough,” Mayer growled. “And he’s out of medicine.”

 

“So we buy more!”

 

“No.” Mayer shook his head. “I won’t let that reporter girl buy anything else for us.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I don’t think you do.”

 

The smug look on his face was terrifying. Sarah didn’t want to know what he’d done. “Goodnight, Dad.” She stalked away.

 

David was still in bed, still so pale, still coughing weakly. Sarah expected to see an empty bottle of medicine on his bedside, but it was gone completely. “Where’d your medicine go?” she asked.

 

He answered with violent coughs. “Dad took it,” he gasped. “Said he was paying the doctor back.”

 

“Katherine paid for the doctor,” Sarah said, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “I think he’s done something awful.”

 

“I heard you fight last night,” David told her, voice strained. “Where’d you go?”

 

“I slept at Katherine’s.” Sarah blushed. “He keeps sending her home.”

 

“He looks at her like he looked at Jack.”

 

And the situation was terrible, too awful to think of, but Sarah couldn’t help cracking a smile. At least she had someone for her father to hate. 

 

“I think she’d be good for you,” David said, but his face was sad. “I’m happy for you.”

 

“Thank you, Davey.” Sarah smoothed back his hair. “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep without your medicine?”

 

David shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.” 

 

He could not get to sleep, as it turned out, and Sarah stayed up all night tending to his heightened fever and ferocious coughs. By the time Katherine slipped in the door at dawn, pocketing the spare key Sarah had slipped her the week before, Sarah was dead on her feet, getting dressed for work, putting bagels in paper bags with shaking arms. 

 

Katherine pressed herself to Sarah’s back, rubbing her cold nose across her neck. Sarah giggled, grabbing at Katherine’s hands that had clasped themselves around her waist. “Good morning,” she said softly. 

 

“Good morning to you too,” Katherine said. “You sleep well?”

 

“Not really,” Sarah chuckled. “Not really at all, actually.”

 

Katherine spun her around, one hand resting on her hip, the other lifting to brush the baby hairs out of Sarah’s face. Her face softened. “Oh you poor thing.” She rubbed her thumb lightly under Sarah’s eyes, tracing the dark purple bags. “Should you be going to work?”

 

“I’ve got to.” Sarah still smiled. She adored how tactile Katherine was. “Could you wait up for me?”

 

“Of course.” 

 

Katherine stepped back, smoothing Sarah’s dress down her sides, and smiled. “You’re so beautiful.”

 

“You’re one to talk.”

 

“Disgusting.” Sarah whipped around to see Les making an exaggerated face, tongue sticking out and eyes scrunched up. “I thought Jack and David were bad.”

 

“Be nice, Les.”

 

“I’m always nice,” he said. 

 

“You look so grown up in your uniform,” Katherine gushed. “You and Davey look so similar.”

 

“How insulting,” he snickered.

 

“Les!” Sarah gasped, laughing. “What did I just say!”

 

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Thank you, Katherine,” he said childishly. “Thanks for lunch, Sarah. See you later.” He saluted with two fingers as he dashed out the door. 

 

“He’s heading to school early,” Katherine commented. 

 

“Nobody wants to see Dad anymore, I don’t think,” Sarah sighed. “Are you alright being here with him?”

 

“I’ll manage.” She smiled, tight-lipped. 

 

Sarah stepped out of Katherine’s hold, grabbing her own small lunch, before doubling back and kissing Katherine’s cheek. They both flushed deep red and Sarah made her way to work, hoping her exhaustion would wait to sink in until that night. 

 

It was a long and busy day, with new spring designs pouring in even though March had just begun. Sarah stood and cracked all her bones at once, the dusty clock above the door reading 11:38 pm. It was so late. She had missed dinner. 

 

Disappointed at herself and missing Katherine, Sarah walked so slouched that she almost missed the aforementioned woman waiting outside the door. 

 

“You’re done, finally,” Katherine groaned, but her voice was light. “I was beginning to get worried.”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“Waiting for you, obviously.”

 

Sarah beamed. “You didn’t have to.”

 

“Yes I did.” Katherine handed her a glass thermos of hot coffee. 

 

“Coffee?” Sarah asked. “But it’s so late.”

 

Katherine bit her lip, and Sarah noticed the shadow to her face. “We need to talk.”

 

Sarah swallowed. “About what?”

 

“I’ll tell you when we get to my place.”

 

They walked in anxious silence. Sarah wanted to hold Katherine’s hand, but she was afraid Katherine didn’t want her to. 

 

The first thing Katherine did after locking her door was hand Sarah an envelope filled with money. “What’s this?” Sarah asked.

 

“The doctor I hired for David gave it to me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Your father went in and demanded he pay me back, and he repaid with his own money.”

 

“You’re kidding me.” Sarah scowled. “What’s his problem?”

 

Katherine didn’t answer. 

 

“I’m serious, what’s his problem?” Sarah repeated, her words heating. “This is what he meant when he said we were low on money. He went and wasted everything.”

 

“I want you to keep it.”

 

And something ugly and green reared its head in Sarah’s chest, envy at Katherine for just having money to spare, anger at herself for hating the pity she thought she saw in her face. Sarah swallowed the beast down and closed the envelope. “I’ll do my best,” she said. “He’s probably going to start watching everything I buy.” She stared at the smooth white of the paper a second longer and handed it back to Katherine. “I can’t just take money like this. He’s going to see it.”

 

Katherine pocketed the envelope. “I’ll still use it to help.”

 

“To help David,” Sarah finished. “He’s the most important right now.”

 

Katherine sighed. “I wish you’d think of yourself first for once.”

 

“Not when my family’s at stake.”

 

“Let’s just go to bed.” Katherine grabbed Sarah’s hand. “Do you want to stay here or do you want me to walk you home?”

 

Sarah knew she should go home, in case David or Les needed her, but Katherine did just tell her to be selfish for once. “I’ll stay here,” she said, and Katherine’s answering grin was brighter than a million suns. 

 

The next day was Saturday, and Sarah should have been off work, but when she arrived home after a leisurely walk from Katherine’s, Mayer was there, telling her that they needed the one extra day of wages.

 

“You already don’t care about being a good Jewish girl,” he told her. “Just go to work.”

 

On her way home later that night, she ran into none other than Racetrack Higgins and Spot Conlon, both looking older but much brighter than they were as teens. 

 

“Sarah!” Race crowed. “Long time no see!”

 

“Same to you,” she said, wishing she could stay to talk, but feeling the desperate itch to go home and see David. And Katherine. 

 

“How are you and the Mouth holdin’ up, then?” Spot asked, far more polite than Sarah remembered him. 

 

“I’m just fine, but Davey’s been down with the flu for a while,” she told them.

 

“Aw that’s rough.” Spot clapped her back. 

 

“Hey, we were just talking about you guys the other day, weren't we Spottie,” Race said loudly. Spot scowled at the nickname.

 

“Why were you talking about us?” Sarah asked.

 

“Well, we’s been seein’ Les out sellin’ in the mornings again, and I told him my old favorite spots, and talkin’ to him again made me miss my favorite twins.” Race grinned, and his smile was much bigger without the obnoxious cigar he’d carried around obsessively in his youth. 

 

“We’re the only twins you know,” Sarah laughed, but then Race’s words caught up to her. “Hold on,” she said. “Les is selling in the mornings? Like weekends, or weekdays?”

 

“Weekdays?” Race looked to Spot, who nodded.

 

“We see him all the time with his little uniform on but he said he don’t ever really go to school much anymore.”

 

Sarah felt rage build in her. Her face twisted, her heart seized, and she really needed to talk to Les. “Nice seeing you boys,” she spoke through gritted teeth. “I have a teenager to talk to.”

 

“Uh oh,” Race guffawed. “We get Les in trouble?”

 

“Oh he’s in trouble alright,” Sarah muttered. “If you want to visit David, you’re free to at anytime. Katherine looks over him when I can’t.” She gave a forced smile, and took off in the darkness with long, stalking strides. 

 

“Les Jacobs!” she yelled, pounding on his bedroom door. “Open up, you brat.”

 

David coughed from his bed, and Katherine poked her head out his room. “You alright, my love?” 

 

“Oh, I just have to yell at this dumb kid,” Sarah growled. “You know he’s been skipping school to sell papers?”

 

Katherine gasped. “You yell at him, I’ll keep taking care of the big baby.” She closed the door. Sarah pushed at Les’s.

  
Les cracked open his door, shrieking lightly as Sarah burst in. “Why are you skipping school?” she demanded. Les immediately tried slamming his door in her face, but she wedged her foot between the door and the frame. “Talk to me.” 

 

“Don’t wanna,” Les whined, pushing at his door with his whole body. “It’s bedtime, Sarah, come on.”

 

“No,” she said, softer than before, but still firm. “Les, you can’t be skipping school. Let me in so we can talk.”

 

He gave one last shove on his door before sighing and slumping against the wood. “Fine,” he grumbled, standing back up and letting Sarah in. 

 

His room wasn’t as messy as Sarah would expect it to be. His bed was made, his clothes were folded, and the floor was clear. She frowned.

 

“How’d you hear?” Les asked, flopping onto his bed. Sarah sat next to him, toeing off her shoes.

 

“Race told me.”

 

“Race?” Les lifted his head slightly. “Since when do you talk to Race?”

 

“Since I bumped into him just on my way home,” she answered. “Said you told him you didn’t go to school anymore.” She straightened the pillows beside her. “Why’s that, then?”

 

“Cause we’re poor,” Les said, almost too quiet for her to hear. “I know what Dad’s been on about, and I wanna help as much as I can.”

 

“You don’t have anything to prove, Les, you’re fifteen,” Sarah sighed. “We need you to stay in school.”

 

Les stayed silent for a moment, before sitting up and hunching over, curling into himself. “I just feel- I feel like it’s my fault.”

 

“What’s your fault?”

 

“Mom,” he said miserably. “David. Everything. David and Jack were going to leave in May, did you know that? They just stayed because Mom went to see Grandpa and they were stuck looking after me.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “If I wasn’t such a child they could have gone and we could have set things up for Mom better, and David wouldn’t be so sick now, and none of us would be so sad.” He sniffled loudly. “I just want to prove that I can be more than a burden.

 

“You’re not a burden, Les,” Sarah said fiercely. “None of us think that. You’re my brother. I want you to live your best life."

 

Les looked at her with wide, watery eyes. “How can I go to school like everything’s normal when you’re gone all the time and David has been sick for a month? I can’t just live like it’s okay knowing that he’s so sad and that it’s my fault.”

 

“Hey, it’s no ones fault but Jacks.” Sarah pulled Les into her side. “He left and it was a shitty thing to do but you can’t blame yourself. He chose to do that.”

 

“I just want to be able to contribute something.” Les’s words were muffled against Sarah’s shoulder. “I feel so worthless only selling newspapers on the weekends.”

 

Sarah rubbed his back slowly. “It won’t always be this way,” she promised. “He’ll get better, and he’ll go back to school too, and we’ll all be happy again.” 

 

Les just shrugged. 

 

Sarah rocked her brother back and forth for what felt like hours, until she was sure he had finally fallen asleep. There was lots of work to be done the next day; talking to Les again, telling Mayer what had slipped their knowledge, talking with David on how to fix things, but Sarah didn’t dread it. They were family. She’d go to hell and back for them, even if some wouldn’t do the same. 

 

There was no light coming from Mayer’s room, but Sarah made sure to tiptoe past, holding her beat up boots in one hand and lifting her skirt with the other. Katherine was waiting on her bed, already wearing one of Sarah’s old nightgowns. It was a familiar comfort, the other woman’s warm presence. Sarah sunk into Katherine’s arms, and even knowing that they’d have to get up before the sun so Mayer wouldn’t catch them, she felt almost at peace.

 

Sunday brought chaos, as it always seemed to. Mayer was angry at Les, but more than furious toward Sarah, screaming of her negligence and cowardice, blaming her for their money misfortunes, claiming she didn’t work hard. Sarah tuned out the yells, focusing more on her mind and her memories of Katherine’s eyelashes casting shadows across her cheeks in candlelight. 

 

“Dad’s really mad at you,” David told her at lunchtime. Sarah had carried a tray of soup up to his bedroom. His window was cracked open; the March air just warm enough that she didn't shiver. “I heard him yell earlier.”

 

“He’ll probably yell again,” Sarah said dryly. “He likes doing that.”

 

“He likes a new scapegoat,” David said back. “Where is Katherine, by the way?”

 

“I can’t keep her here forever,” Sarah shrugged. “I think she’s gone out for an interview.”

 

David nodded. “She was talking about it yesterday.” He took a spoonful of soup. “How are things with you and her?”

 

“Nothing official, Sarah said lightly. “But I’m happy with her.”

 

“I’m happy for you.” 

 

Talking with David about relationships was awkward; he was her brother, but more so, she could tell by the heartbreak in his eyes that he was thinking about Jack.

 

“Do you feel like you’re getting better?” she asked, changing the subject. “It’s been so long.”

 

“I think that stopping my medicine did not help,” he sighed. “I don’t remember what it’s like to not be sick.”

 

“I wonder if you have an infection,” she mused. “I think that’s something that happens.”

 

“It does,” David said, laughing a little, but his chuckles turned into hacking coughs. “There’s not much I can take for an infection, though.”

 

“I’ll go and get you more medicine tomorrow,” she promised. “During lunch, I’ll go to the pharmacy.”

 

“Could we afford it?” David asked.

 

“Probably not,” Sarah said, “but Katherine wants to help.”

 

“Dad would find out.” David tilted his head. “He’s going to pay so much attention to what you buy.”

 

“I’ve been thinking,” she started. “Asking about the hat box money. If he would let us use it.”

 

David shrunk into himself. Sarah wanted to ask, but didn’t.

 

“It’s no better than accepting money from Katherine.” He scratched at his arm. “And if… if we don’t know where it’s from, he’ll hate it even more.”

 

Sarah sighed. “You’re right, I suppose.”

 

He smirked. “As I usually am.”

 

“Ugh,” she snorted. “Eat your soup, boy.”

 

“Hey,” David said, setting his spoon down, swallowing a mouthful of bland broth. “Make sure Les goes to school. I don’t want him to end up… working a job he hates.”

 

The  _ like me _ went unsaid. 

 

“I’ll walk him there myself,” Sarah promised. 

 

She retreated to her room with a mug of tea and the book of finances she and her father meticulously kept up with. Since Sarah had taken to shopping and preparing everything for her family, she had played a bigger part in controlling the family money than Mayer would have liked. 

 

There were lines and lines of neatly written numbers, pencil smudging across the math. The number at the end was so incredibly small that Sarah couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. Mayer had already added in the money he gave to the doctor; nearing a hundred dollars, which was over a hundred dollars more than they had. Without David’s two salaries and with Les contributing less than before, their savings had dwindled into almost nothing. There was barely enough money to last through the week. 

 

Another income was missing, one they hadn’t adjusted to life without before David was struck down, and things were bleaker than Sarah thought. Maybe it would be best for Les to stop school and keep selling-

 

Sarah pinched her wrist. She couldn’t think like that.

 

The sounds of her heavy breathing and the pencil tracing shaky lines were the only things breaking the silence. If Sarah went in to work this much earlier, if she stayed later, if she skipped out on her lunch break, if she only ate cheese for breakfast and cabbage for dinner, if she scrimped and saved and went without, perhaps they could make it. Perhaps they could afford the medicine, pay off their debts, and David would be better. Then they could get back on their feet.

 

She went to sleep early that night. Monday would be long.

 

When morning came, Sarah stayed true to her promise to David and held Les by the arm as she walked him to school. Once he was settled in, grumbling and embarrassed at her chaperoning, she took off for the pharmacy, arriving right as it opened. 

 

It was only when she was at the counter, panting and anxious to get to work, that she realized she couldn’t remember the brand of his medicine. 

 

“What can I help you with, darling?” the old man behind the counter asked. 

 

“It’s in a brown bottle,” she tried desperately. “Helps with the flu. I didn’t pick it up last time.”

 

“Medicine for the flu?” he asked. “I think I know the one.”

 

Sarah hopped from foot to foot as the man hobbled to the wall of glass bottles and foggy jars behind him. The liquid he grabbed seemed close enough to what she recalled that Sarah blurted, “yes, that one! I must buy it for my brother.”

 

She handed over the bills, and once again realized her faults. “Could it be delivered?” she asked. “I have to go to work.”

 

“I can call a courier,” the man offered. “But it will cost extra.”

  
Sarah swallowed and pulled out more money. She didn’t need dinner. “I don’t have paper to write the address.”

 

The old man pushed a small pad of paper and a pen, fancier than one she had ever used, toward her. Sarah scribbled down the numbers and the street name, careful not to mess up the ink, so it could clearly  be read. 

 

_ Ask for Katherine or David _ , she added. 

 

“Thank you so much,” was all she could get out before dashing to work, holding her head down as she passed Mr. Davis. 

 

And then, she stayed the whole day. Almost the whole night. Everyone was gone, Mr. Davis was snoring in his chair, and Sarah’s fingers were blistered, but every tick of the clock was money in her pocket. Money she so desperately needed.

 

“It’s one in the morning, Sarah, we have to go.”

 

And if Sarah didn’t react at first, it most certainly was not because she thought she was hallucinating Katherine’s voice.

 

“Sarah,” Katherine said again, and a gloved hand jolted Sarah out of her daze. 

 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, pressing her foot down gently on the pedal, guiding fabric under the flashing silver needle. “I have work to do.”

 

“No, your work is over,” Katherine pressed, rubbing her hand down Sarah’s back. “It’s long been time for bed.”

 

Sarah let her machine slow down, and slumped with her arms in her lap. “Can’t I just sleep right here?” she asked, succumbing to the exhaustion in her bones. 

 

Katherine helped her stand. “Come on, my darling. We’re going to my home. I’ll help you up the stairs.”

 

Katherine was too worried to ask any questions; Sarah was too tired to answer any. The tips of her fingers had started to bleed, and a small drop of red stained her dress. Neither woman noticed.

 

Katherine only paid attention to the ripped skin once they were already in bed, kissing her fingertips and playing with icy fingers until they were warm again. “We’ll talk over breakfast,” she told Sarah’s sleeping form.

 

But Sarah was gone again before the sun went up. 

 

While most of the women Sarah worked with went out on their brief lunch breaks, Sarah stayed inside and pieced together another jacket. Midway through, Katherine appeared behind her once more. “You have to stop this.”

 

“I have to keep working.”

 

Katherine pulled up a chair, and sat beside Sarah, watching her movements with caring eyes. “David’s worried about you.”

 

“David’s worried about everything,” Sarah muttered.

 

“I’m worried too.” Katherine rested her head on Sarah’s shoulder. “Isn’t it time for lunch?”

 

“I can eat while I work.”

 

But Katherine saw through Sarah’s lies. “Then eat,” she prompted. “What did you bring today?”

 

Sarah stopped her foot. The hum of the machine quieted. She sighed. “I didn’t bring anything.”

 

“I thought as much.” And then Katherine pulled out a boxed lunch, a sandwich piled high with meat and cheese and lettuce and pickles and a whole orange and a small cake wrapped in tinfoil. Sarah could cry. 

 

“David told me that your father won’t let you buy anything with money you don’t make. But he doesn’t have to know about this, does he?” Katherine smiled gently. Sarah wanted to kiss her. 

 

“I owe you so much,” she said, voice tight.

 

“The only thing you owe me is your health,” Katherine responded. “I can’t have you getting sick too. Will you be home tonight?”

 

“I wish I could be,” Sarah sighed. “But I’ll have to stay late again.”

 

“Why?” Katherine asked miserably. “Come home.”

 

Sarah looked down. “We’re poorer than David thinks,” she finally said. “If I don’t work, we don’t eat.”

 

“I just want you to be okay.”

 

“I have to do this so I can be.”

 

Katherine left as the lunch break ended, women swarming in and taking back their machines. The buzz grew too loud for conversation, so Sarah just squeezed Katherine’s hand and sent her off.

 

They didn’t discuss money much after that, but they did develop a routine.

 

Sarah had to work double, triple, quadruple shifts until she was so tired she could barely guide the fabric in a straight line and her fingers got caught under the needles. Katherine was always waiting for her at the door, holding a cup of good coffee and some sort of baked good kept warm in her pocket. Sarah didn’t know how she always knew when she’d need her. She could only be thankful that Katherine cared. 

 

It was after a long day, a dark Saturday night as they were walking home, avoiding puddles from the afternoon’s heavy rain, that Katherine spoke again.

 

“Sarah,” she said carefully. “I know I already said, but I’m worried about you. I think your father is too. He hasn’t seen you in weeks, and I’ve been thinking, I know he wouldn’t accept anything but, I could-”

 

“He won’t let us use anything you give us,” Sarah said miserably. “It doesn’t matter how hard I work. He won’t accept charity. You saw what he did with the doctor.”

 

“But I have so much, and I can help,” Katherine pleaded. “I can’t stand watching you fall apart like this. He actually talked to me this morning, did you know? He asked where you’d been this whole time. He looked sad when I said you’ve been working.” She tugged at Sarah’s hand. “Besides, he already accepted money from me once, can’t you convince him to do it again?”

 

“What?”

 

“Where does he think the money we gave your mom came from? The gutter?” Her weak attempt at a joke didn’t land, because Sarah had stopped dead in her tracks. “Sarah?”

 

Sarah’s head swam. The world around her whited out; she couldn’t even feel the damp air seeping through her cheap coat. “You gave us that money?” she croaked. “That was you?”

 

“I mean, Jack and I gave her some money a few years ago, while David was at school, but Sarah, what’s wrong?” Katherine asked desperately. “Do you need to sit down?”

 

“Was it in a hat box?” Sarah asked, her voice too loud for the night. “Did you give it to just her?”

 

“When David was at school, Les had to sell a lot more. We talked to your mom and she told us that without David working, money was tight, so we pooled up some cash to give her.” Katherine spoke quickly, her words jumbled. Sarah shuffled forward a step. Katherine gripped her arm. “Sarah,” she said again. “Talk to me.”

 

And then, Sarah took off, running with all her might. She remembered the day her mother died, David running off like he did, knowing then with full force how he felt. She wondered if he knew. 

 

Her home was cold and dark when she shoved her way in. Katherine was following close behind; her scampering footsteps echoing in the sleeping house. David started coughing in the other room, but Sarah ignored him in favor of pulling the hat box out of the back closet they had forced it into weeks ago, pulling at it so forcefully that it flew open and money spilled across the dark floors. 

 

“Sarah, you’re scaring me,” Katherine said, leaning on the wall, breathing heavily. Then she stopped. She stepped closer to Sarah. “What’s all… why do you have so much left?”

 

“We couldn’t use it,” Sarah sobbed, clutching crumpled bills to her chest. “We didn’t know she had it until she died. And then, we didn’t know where it was from, and Dad said we couldn’t use it.”

 

“But we gave it to Esther,” Katherine said desperately, falling to her knees beside Sarah. “She could have used it.”

 

“She never told us!” Sarah cried. “Last thing she said was, there’s money in the hat box, use it, but we never thought we could! We didn’t know where it was from!”

 

“We left a note!” Katherine gasped, putting her arms out to hold Sarah, but the other woman moved out of reach.

 

“Hold on.” Sarah faced Katherine, still holding onto the wrinkled dollars. “Who is  _ we _ ?"

 

“Jack and I, didn’t you know? I already said.”

 

Sarah’s face crumpled even more. “Jack did this?” She hadn’t registered his name before. 

 

“It was his idea,” Katherine explained. “He was the one to notice that Les was getting skinny, so he put in most of his saved up Santa Fe money and I put in another half.” Sarah sobbed. “Sarah, please don’t cry.”

 

“I’ve hated him for so long, and he did this for us,” she cried. “And you did this for us.”

 

“I’m sorry I never brought it up; I thought you knew!” Katherine pulled Sarah to her, letting her cry. “I’m so sorry, Sarah.”

 

“Not your fault,” Sarah sniffed. 

 

“Now you can use it, right?”

 

“I think my dad would hate it so much.” But then Sarah smiled. “I don’t, though.”

 

“You can stop working so late.”

 

“David can go back to school.”

 

“ _ You  _ can go to school,” Katherine offered. “Women can learn, you know.”

 

“Me, going to college?” Sarah scoffed. Then she paused. “I never thought of that before.”

 

“I think you’d do well.”

 

“Studying what?” Sarah asked.

 

Katherine grinned, a loving look etched across her face. “Anything you want.”

 

Sarah couldn’t help it; she pulled Katherine in, and instead of going for a hug like she normally would, she moved so their lips pressed together with full force. Katherine matched intensity, like two sparks roaring into flames under hot touches and hard kisses. When they broke apart, Sarah was panting. 

 

“I’ve been waiting for that,” Katherine breathed, and a weight lifted from Sarah’s chest. 

 

“Me too.”

 

The next morning, when her father woke up, Sarah was making breakfast in the kitchen, and she explained the money. She told Mayer that it was from Jack; it was making up for a loss instead of acting as charity. They could use it. He surprisingly accepted it. Sarah expected he was tired of long hours. Even the most stubborn men had to give in somehow. 

 

Everything seemed right with the world, in those moments. Les, at school. Mayer, calmed down. David, coughing less; the medicine seemed to be working. Sarah skipped work that day and she held hands with Katherine as they climbed her countless flights of stairs. They had lost time to make up for. They spent all day in bed.

 

The baby pink candles Katherine kept by her bed had burnt to stubs by the time they made it to sleep, checkered flannel pants on the ground rather than covering legs, lips red and eyes glistening. Sarah nestled further into Katherine’s embrace, goosebumps pricked across her arms, and addicted to the feel of skin touching skin, she thought,

 

_ this must be love. _

 

Katherine walked her to work the next day. They couldn’t hold hands in the daytime, instead walking close enough to occasionally bump shoulders. Overnight, a dozen bushes outside her little shop had blossomed into bright blooms of blushing azaleas. Bumble bees buzzed from flower to flower. 

 

Spring filled the air, and Sarah knew that she’d be alright. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn’t include all that much fun history bc its actually kinda hard to figure out prices n shit and this is just a fic so im not gonna try too hard, but here’s some stuff i learned!
> 
> -The 1st thermos was sold in 1904 and it was german and glass  
> -Pizza was mad cheap and italian immigrants sold it by the slice for like a penny and the first pizzeria opened in nyc in 1905  
> -People ate a lot of cake. (in figuring out the popular foods of the time, looking at what people ate every day, they ended like every meal with a piece of cake)  
> -Since i am such a boss, i included azaleas at the end bc theyre pink and didn’t look up the meaning until now and they mean like 1st love, fragility, womanhood, self care, like i couldnt have picked a better flower if i had researched it  
> -i really want a girlfriend and it’s homophobic that i dont have one (writing abt girls getting together made me so emo im gay)
> 
> plz comment if u want bc comments feed my guilt and make me write so holler!!


	9. 1904

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok merry christmas i guess im only posting on major holidays now. sorry this is over a month late i was bored writing this bit for a while like it's more fun to think of the concepts than it is to write them. i eventually got over my boredom but i recently invested in a Pen and i have been high ever since that purchase so writing inspo sure came out. um. the word nerd wasnt used until 1950 when dr seuss invented it. what the fuck.

Trains roared by in thundering blurs of smoke and iron. The clatter was deafening; the crowds of people filtering in and out of the station had to yell to hear one another. Billowing clouds of exhaust fogged up the sky and blocked the sun just enough to cast a shadow on the platforms, full of young men with nothing but the clothes on their backs and hopes of striking rich. Babies cried whenever the whistles blew, their mothers soothing them furiously, even though nobody could hear their wails over the hustle and bustle. 

 

The lady working the ticket station was old and crotchety. Her hair had just a tint of yellow, a breath of her golden years, but it had faded to a sickly white that frayed off from her scalp in a tangled mess. Leathery skin puckered at the corners of her eyes and lips, and the heavy indents in her forehead and cheeks gave her a permanent scowl.

 

“Ticket,” she rasped. Her voice scratched like an angry cat’s claws. 

 

“Can I get a refund if I have an extra ticket?”

 

“All sales final.” She pointed with her gnarled fingers to the wooden sign that read the same words. “Ticket, or scram.”

 

Jack sighed and slid one of the tickets across the counter. He shoved the other in his pocket, unable to look at it anymore. 

 

The lady ripped the yellowed paper in half and tossed one part at him. “Platform C,” she said.

 

“Thanks, which direction is tha-”

 

“Next!” she interrupted, and Jack was shoved out of the way, alone in the clamor. 

 

He swallowed, and stepped toward his future. 

 

Everything hurt. Every step closer toward the platform, toward the train, toward New Mexico, was agony. There was this bubble around Jack, an invisible cloud that nobody was allowed in and that made him feel so alone. So alone. Crowds seemed to part for him as he floated past, clutching the bag he’d packed so long ago, terrified of starting this new life far differently than anticipated.

 

How was this different than his dreams at seventeen? He’d planned on going alone then, hadn’t he? Jack took a deep breath. He could do it. Just because David wasn’t coming didn’t mean he couldn’t make it.

 

The fight echoed in his mind.

 

_ “My ma, Jack! You have to understand!” _

 

_ “We’ll send money, we’ll go visit, come on David, they don’t need you but I do!” _

 

Jack closed his eyes.

 

_ “I can’t go with you.” _

 

_ “I know.” _

 

_ “And you’re still going?” _ _   
_

 

_ I’m sorry.” _

 

He choked on his breath, and had to open his eyes again. 

 

Above, there loomed a massive hanging sign that read ‘Platform B,’ swaying almost violently as a train hurdled past without even making to stop. Jack’s eyes were stuck on the spinning of the wheels for the few seconds it remained in sight. In the distance, another train approached, but this time, slower. It screamed to a stop and the doors burst opening, revealing the gray interior, calling to Jack like a ghost, beckoning him to everything he had yearned for since before he could remember. Well, not everything.  _ Almost _ everything. 

 

Rows of seats were already full of all sorts of people; disinterested old men, excited young women, screaming children, determined boys just his age. Jack read the lettered seats until he reached a pair in the back; seats Y1 and Y2. Jack’s ticket read Y1, the intact paper in his pocket said Y2. They had chosen the seats for the privacy only the back could provide, but Jack supposed that privacy was worthless in the end. 

 

The train started with a harsh jolt, and suddenly there was no turning back.

 

Jack had always thought that this moment, when the train left, this moment of no return, would loosen the tightness in his chest. It didn’t happen. The ache caused by the torments of New York City was replaced by anguish at leaving David behind. A lump formed in Jack’s throat. What if the feeling never went away?

 

With every passing moment, buildings and trees and endless fields of corn and wheat and tobacco whizzing by, the lump grew into something unbearable and Jack wanted to scream and cry and wake up back in his cold New York apartment kept warm by David’s familiar comfort. 

 

But there was no turning back. 

 

It really hit him, then. For the rest of his life, however long it may be, he would never wake up by David again. He would never smell that morning breath, never smooth that bedhead, never adjust those sleep-rumpled clothes. 

 

_ God, this is going to be hard. _

 

No David. No Crutchie. Nobody. Nobody but Jack.

 

All through the night, Jack stayed glued to his seat, wide awake, eyes staring blankly out the window. He watched the sunset; sky fading from a dark black night into pink into the pale blue of day, but he couldn’t find it in him to marvel at the multitude of stars or the clearness of the morning sky. He just looked. 

 

Then, arrival. On some level, Jack wanted to hate Santa Fe. He wanted the air to be musty, the dirt to clog his lungs, the colors to be dull, the people rude, but in all honesty?

 

Santa Fe was exactly how he’d always dreamt it would be. 

 

For the first time since David opened their front door with dread etched into every inch of his being, Jack smiled. An honest to God, face splitting, heart soaring, cheek aching kind of smile that he just couldn’t help because after twenty four years of dreaming he had  _ made it. _

 

The sun beat down a white heat that seeped to Jack’s bones, even in the November chill. The clouds were glistening with an opalescent glow, small and fluffy but so stark against the deepest blue Jack had ever seen. The soft curves of mountains far behind the city seemed to fade into the sky. The trees were all different shades of red and orange and brown and golden and green, leaves floating to the sandy ground. And the buildings, they weren’t looming towers that spelled doom for every working man; they were short and fat with windows across every side and flat tops that Jack was sure he could reach just by scaling the walls. It was so unbelievably perfect, and Jack was rooted to the ground, taking in the breathtaking city he had the privilege to call  _ home _ , and he turned to David to say, “can you believe?” but there was nobody at his side and the beautiful colors faded to gray. 

 

“It’s nicer than I thought it would be,” a voice said to his left, and Jack whipped his head around so fast his neck could have snapped right off his shoulders. “Didn’t know there’d be mountains.”

 

The voice belonged to a stranger who looked unnervingly like David. He wasn’t as tall, his hair was a tad lighter, his nose was crooked, like it had been broken, and there wasn’t that careful pronunciation of every word like with David, but he was almost a perfect copy. The resemblance hurt.

 

The man looked to Jack, and laughed at what must have been the most dumbstruck look he’d ever seen. “I’m Brennan,” he said. “From Chicago.”

 

Jack cleared his throat. “Jack, from New York.” He stuck out a hand, fighting the urge to spit in his palm. 

 

Brennan’s hands were warm. “New York’s far,” he commented. “Thought people liked it there.”

 

“Not me,” Jack sighed, turning back to face the world before him. “Too big for me.”

 

Brennan snorted. “This place looks pretty big.” He gestured to the wide open air.

 

“Nah.” Jack gazed wistfully at the wide roads. “It’s a different kind of big in New York. Makes a guy feel like he’s nothin’. Everything’s too close an’ too tall. This… is different.”

 

“Well, I hope you like it here better than back home.” Brennan clapped him on the back. “Love to stay and chat, but I do have people to meet. See you around, man.”

 

“Yeah, see ya, pal.” Jack watched Brennan walk away, filled with the glee of knowing that Santa Fe was small, they actually would see each other again instead of getting lost in the nameless faces of New York.

 

He smiled again and stepped off the platform. 

 

It was midday, pleasantly chilly, and the walk to the city square was just long enough that Jack had a spring in his step and excitement in his heart when he made it. There were restaurants, bars, coffeeshops, doctor’s offices, and even a couple kids on the street corner selling newspapers. Jack fished a dime out of his pocket and approached one of the kids. “Headline good today?” he asked.

 

The kid shrugged. “Something about Russia,” he said. “But wait till you get a look at the third page, there was a big crash on the Rio Grande, lots of people hurt.” He waved the paper in Jack’s face. “Got a nickel?”

 

“I got a dime.” Jack flipped the coin. “One pape, please.”

 

“Pape?” the kid asked, handing off his newspaper and taking the dime. “Where are you from?”

 

“New York City,” Jack told him, “but I’m stayin’ here. Thanks for the pape, kid.”

 

“Thanks for the dime!” And he sprung off, waving another paper in the air.

 

Jack looked at his newspaper, noting that the headline really was about Russia fighting Japan. New York didn’t care about foreign issues like this; the conceited city only reported on its own issues with headlines impossible to sell. He smiled.

 

The midday sun beat down and warmed his back through his coat, but the cold still nipped at his fingers, so Jack wandered into a restaurant, folding the newspaper under his arm in the way he’d seen so many businessmen do through the years. 

 

“What can I get started for you sir?” the man behind the bar asked, his words tinged with an accent Jack had never heard before.  

 

“Could I just get a water for now?” Jack asked, settling on a stool. “I’m new around here. What’s good?”

 

The man smiled. “Welcome to Santa Fe, kid. I’m Carlos.” He reached out to shake Jack’s hand. The angle was awkward over the bar. “I run this place.”

 

“Impressive,” Jack said. “I’s Jack. I came down from New York City.”

 

“Don’t get a lot of New York boys,” Carlos told him. “Most people stay there.”

 

“Not me, I guess.” Jack tried for a smile. “Not my type of city."

 

“So I suppose you’re in the market for a job?

 

“Sure would be nice to have one,” Jack laughed. “Got a limited amount of cash on me.”

 

Carlos grinned. “You’re in luck, my friend! My father lives right on the edge of town on his farm, but he’s gotten too old to work the land like he used to. Came around and told me to find him a strong young man to help out.”

 

“Really? Of course I’ll help!” Jack’s heart was in his throat with excitement. 

 

“He’s got a back house he’ll let you stay in, and he makes enough from selling what he makes that he can offer a hefty salary.” 

 

“That sounds amazing,” Jack said, beaming. “Should I head on down now, or wait till later?”

 

Carlos snorted. “You think you can find you way around here already?”

 

Jack shrugged, sheepish. “I managed in New York. It’s a big city, ya know.”

 

“Santa Fe’s different, kid.” Carlos drummed his fingers across the counter. “I’ll fix you a little something to eat on the house and when my niece is off school she’ll take you to Alejandro’s.”

 

_ Alejandro. _ Jack couldn’t help the giddy grin that warmed his cheeks and softened his heart. Things were already looking up. 

 

Carlos eventually slid him a plate of food unlike anything Jack had ever seen, with beans and rice and some sort of thin bread rolled up and filled with spicy meats and cheese and peppers and it was possibly the biggest, best meal Jack ever ate. His tongue burned and a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his head as he gulped down another glass of icy cold water, freezing his chest and numbing his brain but doing nothing to soothe the fire in his mouth. Jack didn’t quite understand the food, but he found something pleasurable and exciting in the spice. 

 

“I’ve never had anything like that,” he told Carlos once he finished, in a bit of a daze. “Food in New York is all stale bread and soft apples that cost way more than they’s worth.”

 

“Well down here we like to eat,” Carlos smiled. “I use recipes passed down from my grandparents. They’re more traditional foods from when we were Mexico.”

 

“Well, it was incredible.” Jack went to fish some money from his bag, but Carlos stopped him. 

 

“I told you this was on the house, Jack,” he said kindly. “You don’t owe anything.”

 

Santa Fe was already so  _ different. _ Jack was so comfortable with his full stomach and light heart and job offer and even though it was November there weren’t piles of filthy snow on the street corners and he was perfectly warm in Carlos’s little restaurant. 

 

“Thank you, Carlos.”

 

Things were looking up. 

 

(If he focused hard enough, he could ignore the unspeakable pain in his heart, the cold gap where David should be. He would have loved the food.)

 

A few hours later, when the sun was just beginning its descent, a teenage girl burst into the restaurant with a flurry of chatter and bags. 

 

“Tío, you will never believe what Ahiga did today,” she said loudly in the same slight accent as Carlos. “We were in the middle of lunch and he stands up and-” she stops as she takes in Jack. “Who’s this?”

 

“Rosa, this is Jack,” Carlos says, leaning on the bar. “Jack, this is my niece Rosa.”

 

“What’s he doing here?” she asks, plopping down next to Jack. “Can I get a tamale?”

 

“Yes, but you’ll have to eat it fast,” Carlos tells her. “Jack is going to work for Abuelo.”

 

“I thought his name was Alejandro,” Jack said without thinking. 

 

Rosa snickered. “It’s spanish, Jack. Most people speak  _ español  _ here. We’re not even a state yet, you know.”

 

Jack’s cheeks flamed. “I knew that,” he tried, but he had already lost all dignity from one little question. 

 

“I’ll have to teach you a lot, then,” she sighed, but didn’t actually sound disappointed.

 

“She can talk your ear off,” Carlos laughed. “Be careful.”

 

“It ain’t a big deal. I’m used to people talkin’ nonsense to me all day. I know a lot of live-wires from my old city.”

 

Rosa snorted. “You talk funny,” she said. 

 

“Rosa,” Carlos scolded. “Be nice.”

 

“I guess I got a bit of an accent, then,” Jack laughed. “We’s used to it all up there.”

 

“Jenny will think it’s cool,” she told him. “She’s book smart. Her family moved here from Virginia a few months ago.”

 

Carlos slid Rosa a plate with some long, yellowish…  _ thing  _ on it. 

 

“What’s that?” Jack asked.

 

“It’s a tamale,” Rosa said. “It’s basically meat cooked in a corn husk.”

 

“And you eat the husk?”

 

“No, silly, you take it off.” She demonstrated by peeling away the top and revealing the edible parts inside. “You have to try one.”

 

“Not today.” Jack shook his head and rubbed his stomach. “I’m honestly stuffed.”

 

Rosa shrugged. “Your loss.”

 

“I’ll make you one some other day,” Carlos promised.

 

“My tío makes me tamales after school every day,” Rosa said, looking only at Jack. “He wants me to get fat.”

 

Carlos sighed. “Not fat,” he muttered, “healthy.”

 

Rosa winked at Jack. “Fat,” she whispered. “You’ll see.”

 

Once Rosa finished eating, Carlos shooed them off to start the walk to Alejandro’s farm. On the way, Jack learned far too much about the teenagers of Santa Fe as Rosa gossiped into his ear. 

 

“Jenny and Kai are my best friends and don’t tell Kai but I think I like Jenny more because she just gets me, you know? Kai is good when I have boy problems or when I want to do something I’m not supposed to, but if my parents ask I never do anything like that, but Jenny likes to just sit and read and listen so I can tell her about my problems. They’re not my only friends. I know everyone in my school. I think Elan and Doli are together but Jenny likes Elan but he used to like Lenna who also hates Jenny but Lenna and Tahoma are dating but Tahoma is Kai’s ex...”

 

Jack had to tune her out.

 

He did, however; gather that Rosa was very close with her family. She said that every Sunday night, after going to church, her whole family went to her grandfathers and spent the rest of the day cooking and cleaning and setting up for a big dinner, and afterwards, they sat around a fire together reading and playing music. It was everything Jack had wanted it to be.

 

Arriving at Alejandro’s was not as awkward as Jack assumed it would be. He didn’t think about it until Rosa was walking in the house without knocking that he was some random adult man walking around with a teenage girl for no discernible reason. Jack didn’t think Carlos even called his father to let him know about the new helping hand he’d be housing. 

 

Surprise arrival and all, Alejandro welcomed Jack with open arms and an open heart, his smile highlighted by the deep set wrinkles that somehow managed to make him appear more youthful. 

 

“We’ve always got young men who are ready to work hard, but they don’t always stay for long,” Alejandro said kindly. “Carlos sends them to me sometimes.”

 

Well I’m not planning on going anywhere,” Jack promised him. “I ain’t got anywhere else I wanna be.”

 

Jack got his own little house in Alejandro’s backyard, right next to the farmhouse. As night dropped and the temperature sunk into freezing darkness, the privacy unnerved Jack. In New York, there’d always been someone snoring in the lodging house or the sounds of night life when he slept in his penthouse on the roof, and then there was always David with his soft skin and warm breaths and gentle twitches through his dreams and-- 

 

Jack found himself indescribably lonely in the moonlight. 

 

The moon was big and bright and yellow and everything he’d wanted the New York sky to be but the chill of night brought the heartbreak rushing back. He hid his face in the pale gray pillow Alejandro had given him, dampening the fabric to a dark black with his tears. 

 

The worst part was, Jack couldn’t find solace in  _ anything _ . He couldn’t think, at least David is happy without me, at least David will be okay, at least the Jacobs’ will be fine with me gone, because he’d be kidding himself. It sucked, knowing how selfish he was, how nobody he had met all day would want to be kind to him ever again if he said,  _ oh yeah, you know how I’m from New York? My best friend was supposed to come with me but he couldn't because his mom is dying and I just left him without a second thought.  _ Jack wondered if he would ever forgive himself. 

 

He found out as he tossed and turned in his bed with plenty of blankets and hot air rolling around the room that if the moon was so bright night turned to day, he’d never be able to get to sleep. If David were with him, he would hold him tight and make him forget the light. But no, Jack had left him. 

 

Shit. 

 

The excitement of day melted into gloom until the sun rose over a dewy morning and Jack had to get up to milk the cows and silence the yelling of the rooster. 

 

\--

 

_ Planting crops, splitting rails, swapping tales around the fire, except for Sundays when you lie around all day. _

 

Turns out Jack still had to work Sundays, but he wasn’t mad. The air was cool on his skin but the sun warmed him enough that sweat dripped down his face. Jack remembered why he’d made the move as he labored in the peaceful field. No saltwater drying his throat like at the docks. No looming figure criticizing his work like with Pulitzer. No old men ignoring him in the snow like as a Newsie. Jack was alone in the field. 

 

His heart was conflicted. Loneliness clenched his chest, but it was blown wide open from the new freedom. Each dig of his shovel felt like digging his own grave but each drag of the rake was starting a happier life. 

 

That night brought dinner and family and laughter and Jack, in his chair, feeling out of place, listening to rapid fire talk in a language he didn’t understand. Rosa gave him a tamale and Carlos clapped him on the back, but none of the rest of the family really talked to him. 

 

“You’ll get used to it,” Rosa said as she left. “I bring Jenny sometimes and she used to hate these dinners but once they warm up to you, you’ll enjoy yourself.” She smiled. “I promise.”

 

Jack wasn’t sure. The loneliness hadn’t let up. He missed David.

 

A week passed with Jack unsure if he was ecstatic or miserable. 

 

“Jack!” Alejandro yelled from his back porch. “Come inside for a minute!”

 

Jack leaned his wheelbarrow against a tree and wiped the sweat off his face with dirty hands as he made his way to the house. The air inside was hot and stuffy from the fire roaring in the fireplace and Jack wished he could wash his face, but before he could ask for a moment to do so, his heart got stuck in his throat.

 

“Hey, stranger,” David said, a wide smile plastered across his cheeks.

 

Jack blinked sweat out of his eyes.

 

“I’ve hired Brennan here to help you out,” Alejandro explained. “You’ve been doing fine, but I feel with winter coming it’d be best to get as many people as possible.”

 

“Oh.” Jack shoved his feelings down. “I mean, great to have you, Brennan.”

 

“Excited to be here.” Brennan kept smiling, his hands deep in his pockets and his shoulders slouched in a way David never stood. Jack couldn’t believe he’d thought that was David. 

 

“You can show him the ropes today, huh?” Alejandro smiled. “Tomorrow you’ll both be working together, so I’m not worried about lost time.” He clapped his hands together. “I’m so glad there’s so many bright young men willing to work with me. Are you excited to work together or what?”

 

_ Or what.  _

 

No, Jack would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad Brennan was there too. Even though he was the knockoff version of David, he had to be interesting. Jack had never been to Chicago. Besides, he needed a friend. Brennan was someone his age with his dreams. Not that Jack didn’t adore his new friends already, but Rosa was too spunky to keep up with (she reminded him of Smalls), and Carlos was too kind and generous and reminded Jack more of Denton type role model than of a close friend. And Alejandro was technically his boss and landlord, not someone to have a drink with. 

 

“You’ll get the hang of everything real quick,” Jack promised.

 

“This job is saving me,” Brennan laughed. “I had something lined up but it uh… didn’t work out.”

 

There was a twinge to Brennan’s voice that reminded Jack of New York. The twang of his vowels and the way he said ‘dis job’ made Jack think,  _ alright, I can do this.  _

 

So they spent the rest of the day wandering around the farmhouse, the fields, the land around Alejandro’s home, with Jack trying to sound like he knew what he was doing well enough to teach someone else how to do it with him. For god’s sake, he’d been there for only a week. 

 

“So, uh, you finding Santa Fe like you wanted it to be?” Brennan asked as they sat on a bench, watching the sunset. 

 

“I am,” Jack nodded, bobbing his head probably a little too fiercely. “I think I miss New York a little, but I mostly just wanna see my old friends.”

 

“I have some stamps if you want to borrow them,” Brennan offered. “You can write to someone.”

 

“Nah.” Jack hung his head, and didn’t elaborate. 

 

“You leave on bad terms?”

 

“With some of ‘em, yeah.” Jack sighed. “I ran off at a bad time. I doubt they’d wanna hear from me.”

 

“Well I’ll tell you this,” Brennan said. “If any of my buddies back home ran off, I’d want to hear from them, no matter how bad a time it was. Didja love them?”

 

“I did.”

 

“Then I think they loved you too.” Brennan bumped Jack’s shoulder with his own. “I’ll give you some stamps later. Think about it.”

 

The moment felt oddly intimate. 

 

“Now what time is dinner here?” Brennan asked. “I’m famished.”

 

Jack pulled out his pocket watch, a tacky old thing Rosa had given him a few days before. “Should be right about now.”

 

Brennan wasn’t as amazed by the colorful food as Jack was. “In Chicago, we put anything on a hot dog.”

 

“In New York, I ain’t ever eat anything special. Folks don’t care if the street rat kids ate or not.”

 

Jack loved keeping the conversation light. 

 

“I keep telling him that he’s never going to be hungry as long as he’s living under my roof,” Alejandro chortled. “I don’t know why he always feels the need to kick up a row about New York food.”

 

Jack shrugged and shoved a forkful of beans and cheese into his mouth. “I’m just gonna keep appreciatin’ the food you give me, sir.” Brennan’s gaze was hot on Jack as he chewed. “Somethin’ you want, pal?”

 

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” he scolded. “I’m just surprised to hear you say you couldn’t always eat.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Jack nodded, taking another bite and chewing with his mouth open, just to spite Brennan. “Not like I could keep any food in my pantry. Can’t keep a pantry, living in the streets. Got little kids to care for.”

 

Something about the way Brennan seemed concerned for Jack’s wellbeing, even though he was obviously healthy and strong and, oh yeah, living in Santa Fe and not New York, was irresistible. Maybe he left his leadership shoes back in his old apartment and maybe, in this little town, he’d let other people take care of him. 

 

“I”m glad you’re uh, alright now.” Brennan smiled and winked and the bottom fell out of Jack’s world.

 

Later that night, as Jack sat on his bed, Brennan rolled a mat out on the floor of the bedroom in their little backhouse meant for one person and started doing something… weird. 

 

“The fuck are you doing?”

 

“Yoga.”

 

Brennan’s eyes were closed and he had contorted his body into an unnatural position and Jack couldn’t see both his feet but he could see Brennan’s ass straight up in the air and there was no  _ way  _ people were meant to be able to do that.

 

Brennan opened an eye. He sighed. “Jack,” he said. 

 

“What the fuck.”

 

Brennan untangled his limbs and sat down, the bottoms of his feet pressed flat against one another. “You’ve never heard of yoga?”

 

“The hell is yoga?”

 

“Yoga is… well, it’s uh, it’s stretching, ya know?” Brennan offered. “It’s usually done in more Asian areas I think, because a guy from India taught the guy who taught me, but it helps you be peaceful and flexible. I can teach you!” He lit up.

 

“I actually think I’m good,” Jack choked.

 

“Your loss.”

 

And there he was again, doing this terrible stretch, and Jack had to look away. 

 

_ I can’t wait to tell Rosa about this when she asks me if he’s weird _ , Jack thought, and the bottom fell out of his world once again.

 

So, he basically flirted and decided to be vulnerable with Brennan at dinner, and then he went and thought to tell Rosa something rather than wishing he could tell David or Crutchie or Race or Spot or Kath-- Maybe he was moving on. 

 

But then he glanced back at Brennan and imagined David with  _ his _ ass sticking straight up in the air and yeah, maybe he had settled into Santa Fe, but he certainly hadn’t moved on. 

 

Jack sighed and laid down, facing the cruel moon that just wouldn’t stop illuminating the night sky, taunting him for running away, and prepared for another sleepless night. 

 

In the early morning, soft light filtered through into the room, pastel yellow decorating the floor. Light inched into Jack’s half-open eyes and they fluttered fully open, paired with a yawn and a stretch. When Jack finally shook the heaviness out of his weary eyes, David was still asleep across the room.  

 

_ Across the room? We share a bed... _

 

Standing up after laying restlessly all night made Jack’s bones crunch and his back twist every morning, and he had to walk to David’s bed with heavy steps. He stroked his boyfriend’s silky hair, frowning because his hair wasn’t this light, especially in winter. Jack shook off the feeling.

 

“David, wake up,” he whispered. “We’s gotta check on the animals.”

 

“Who’s David?” Brennan murmured, and the illusion shattered. 

 

_ Damn it. I’ve got to stop doing that. _

 

Jack cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sorry,” he said lowly. “You look like someone I used to know.”

 

“Is that a bad thing?” Brennan asked, sitting up slowly. 

 

“No,” Jack sighed. “We were roommates.”

 

Brennan looked unconvinced, but rolled out of bed to stand beside Jack. The fact that they were almost the same height unnerved Jack. David was so much taller. 

 

“We need to check on the animals, right?” Brennan started toward the door. “Come on and show me how it works.”

 

They worked in silence until the morning dew had faded into midday chills. 

 

“I had a roommate back in Chicago, ya know,” Brennan said, not looking up from the swing of his axe. 

 

“Good for you then,” Jack said gruffly, hefting up another log. 

 

“His name was Huxley.”

 

“Funny sounding name.”  _ Smack. Splinter.  _ “Where’s he from?”

 

“Born and raised in Chicago. Interesting parents.” Brennan paused. “Huxley was my uh, favorite person, you can say.” Jack looked up at him. “We were good friends for a long time. I never cared about anyone more.”

 

“Yeah?” Jack asked. “Why’d you come here then?”

 

“Why did you come when you so obviously miss this David?” Brennan countered. “I moved here because Huxley and I had a bit of a falling out. My old man didn’t think two single men should live together, Hux thought I should stand up to him, I figured it didn’t matter, and my dad got his way in the end, I guess.” He smiled bitterly. 

 

“David’s mom is sick,” Jack said quietly. “I was losing my mind up there so we were gonna hop the train and find a new life here but his ma got real sick on a boat and he couldn’t come.”

 

“So that’s what you mean when you say you left at a bad time,” Brennan laughed. “I take it he wanted you to stay and wait?”

 

“He did.”

 

“Tough luck. Hey.” Brennan stopped and reached an arm to hold Jack’s shoulder. “We’re friends now. I can stop missing Hux, and you can stop missing David. We got a new life now.”

 

Jack smiled, a real smile, like the kind he used to have when he had David’s arms around him. “We are friends.”

 

Brennan tugged at his shoulder. “And now we’re taking lunch and you’re going to write a letter to someone else back home so you can get some closure.”

 

“I can’t write to David?” Jack asked as he was tugged along. 

 

“Nope,” Brennan quipped. 

 

Jack pouted. “I guess I could write to Crutchie. It’s a loving nickname, he chose it,” Jack explained at Brennan’s confused look. 

 

“You ever live with him?”

 

“Define live with.”

 

Brennan sighed. “Jack.”

 

“Fine.” Jack rolled his eyes. “We kind of lived together when we were kids because we lived in a lodging house for orphans. I helped him with his polio and he helped me when I led that strike. He’s practically my brother.”

 

“You could’ve started with him being a brother figure,” Brennan scolded. “Write to Crutchie.”

 

_ Dear Crutchie, _

 

_ How are you? I’m okay. Sorry I’m no help with David’s mom. New York just soaked me real good every day.  _

 

_ Oh. This is Jack by the way. Hi.  _

 

_ The people here are nice. Nobody yells at me to do things for them. The food is incredible. I’ve eaten so much. It’s so different from not havin no food.  _

 

_ I miss being on the rooftop with you, sleeping right out in the open in my penthouse in the sky. There was always a nice cool breeze, even in the middle of summer.  _

 

_ I don’t feel the need to escape anymore. I don’t look out of the window, wishing I could just run off like a shot to somewhere else.  _

 

_ Today, I do miss you. I wish you were here. The fresh air would be good for your leg. Remember when we took Pulitzer down? I said you could get rid of that crutch for good and now that I’m here I know you could.  _

 

_ Out here it’s so clean and green and pretty you wouldn’t believe it. There’s no tall buildings blocking the view. I really am ridin’ in style every day.  _

 

_ I’m fine. I’m good as new. I love it here. But hey, listen, can you do something for me? I’ve always said a family looks out for each other and I know I’ve let some people down but can you remind the guys to protect one another? I miss everyone.  _

 

_ Alright. Brennan (my new friend!) says to stop here or I’ll get emotional. So, the end.  _

 

_ Your friend, _

 

“Just your friend?” Brennan scoffed. “Be nicer.”

 

_ Your best friend, _

 

“Come on Jack. Brother figure, remember?”   
  


_ Your brother, _

_ Jack.  _

 

“There,” Jack said, drawing a sharp line under his name. “Be glad I know how to write.”

 

“Why wouldn’t you-” Brennan stopped himself. 

 

Jack sighed. “Yes, my mother died when I was young and yes, my dad is probably in some sort of jail but he barely knows I exist.” Brennan frowned. “Stop that. I lived my childhood on the streets selling papers just to get by. It sucked but I’m past that. Don’t pity me.”

 

“Still hate to imagine that.” Brennan shrugged.

 

“I was just puttin’ it out there, lettin’ ya know. I know how to read and write because I worked with papers my whole life,” Jack said gently. “David helped me with my spelling, admittedly.”

 

“Ugh, back on David.” Brennan picked up Jack’s letter. “What did we write this for, then?”

 

“I do feel closure,” Jack rushed. “It helped. I promise.”

 

“I’ll send it tomorrow. It’s Sunday; no mail today.”   
  


Oh shit. Sunday. 

 

Dinner crept up so quickly Jack wasn’t ready. His hands shook, nervous for another night of exclusion from family. 

 

Except. 

 

“So there I was, standing in the office of the guy who wanted me thrown in jail, with the leader of Brooklyn and the freaking  _ governor _ who is now the  _ president _ on my side, and he uses drawings I made to shut down this torture house for kids and we got a killer deal with the pricings,” Jack bragged. “So yes, Brennan, earlier I  _ did _ mention leading a strike.”

 

“Impressive,” Rosa snorted. “I can’t believe I told Jenny you were funny.”

 

“I am funny!” Jack gasped. “Jenny, am I funny?”

 

“You’re funny,” Jenny squeaked. 

 

“Funny looking,” Brennan piped up, snickering to himself.

 

“Alright Mr. Yoga,” Jack said. “You wanna talk about looking funny? How about those stretches you were doing?”

 

“Yoga is an expression of Asian meditation, Jack,” Brennan started. 

 

“What’s Yoga?” Jenny asked, and actually had genuine interest. 

 

Jack watched with shock as Brennan and Jenny started discussing actual history and other smart people stuff. “You were right,” Jack whispered to Rosa. “She is odd.”

 

“Don’t insult my friend,” she whispered back. “Hey, good job coming out of your shell tonight.”

 

Jack smiled. “Thanks.” 

 

She was right. He had been louder, more open, more comfortable. Maybe it was the time. Maybe he was settled in. Maybe he was moving on. Maybe he had closure from writing that letter. Maybe Brennan made him feel better about himself. Whatever it was, the night felt so much better. 

 

Jack sat back and saw what he hadn’t seen the week before. The clatter of everyone doing their own thing, Rosa’s mom and Carlos’s wife in the corner furiously soothing their crying babies even though nobody could hear the wails over the hustle and bustle of family, the screeching of the toddlers running under the table, making no moves to stop. The gray mist coating the yard was like a ghost beckoning Jack to his past, but he was inside the vibrant house, safe from melancholy. 

 

He felt like he could be happy. 

 

One everyone left, Alejandro shooed Jack and Brennan to their room, refusing to let them help clean up. After taking a bath, Jack settled into bed, rifling through his bag, hoping to find a book or an old newspaper to read so he wouldn’t be so bored through the long and restless night. He found an old journal, the one he kept while David was at school, and when he opened it, a picture fell out. 

 

It was one of Jack’s favorite pictures, from the high school graduation, with the Jacobs’ all dressed up to the nines, and David, right there in the middle, one arm wrapped around Sarah. It was years old, yellowing at the edges, but it was  _ David _ . Jack had to blink to stop from crying. Gently, he folded the picture so he could just see Sarah and David, and he slid the photo to fit the inside of his pocket watch. With David so close to his heart, Jack found that the brightness of the moon actually eased him to sleep. 

 

He dreamt of nothing. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know a lot about the history of the word nerd now. writing different dialects is hard. i love when jack can speak spanish but i feel that hes too dumb here plus its funny. i love rosa. im not foreshadowing this is genuine but idk how i feel about brennan. idk if i trust his motives. ive really been writing this ch for so long that i don't remember everything i researched. oh, the headline of the newspaper was a headline from early october 1904 santa fe so uh yee haw. thank u for sticking with my inconsistency i wont make false promises of change. i love u.


	10. 1912

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuuiefhviepd sorry!!!!! very sorry. over a monthe. happy superbowl ig. so. writing this is super hard bc i love it and i want to write but bouncing around storylines makes starting a new ch so difficult and i really relate EVERYTHING to this fic yet not enough to the chapter im working on so sorry fellas doesnt look like updates are gonna go any faster but i really want to get everything out. i love the random order and the different writing styles and creating this whole story is a blast but a very slow blast :/ next chapter will either be sarah or jack/david being in love i haven't decided yet hmm...

“Amanda, could you pass the salt?”

 

“Of course, my love.”

 

“Amanda, can you top off my coffee?”

 

“Anything for you, handsome.”

 

Early morning sunlight filtered through threadbare yellow curtains, creating a dappled pattern over Amanda’s pancakes and hitting her orange juice just right to illuminate the pulp floating aimlessly. David sighed.

 

“Amanda, I can’t do this.”

 

She missed his mug. Neither cared about the coffee stain on the tablecloth. 

 

“Excuse me?” she asked. 

 

David didn’t answer. 

 

“David,” she said, her voice getting louder. “What did you say?”

 

He looked down. 

 

“Answer me,” she demanded.

 

“I said I can’t do this.”

 

“But what does that mean?” Her fists clenched the fabric of the tablecloth.

 

“I don’t love you.” David couldn’t lift his eyes.

 

Amanda stood up suddenly. “You don’t love me?” she asked incredulously. “What the hell?

 

“Amanda, calm down,” David sighed. 

 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, David Jacobs,” she snarled. “What, you don’t love me anymore, and you think this is how to tell me? You want to break up and you choose breakfast? No buildup!” She ran her fingers furiously through her hair. The blonde strands frizzed up in a way that used to make David laugh fondly. He just wanted her to smooth it down. “Is there someone else?”

 

“No, Amanda, there’s no one else,” he said, tiredly, sadly. 

 

She scoffed, tears glassing her eyes over. The green wasn’t so stunning anymore. “I honestly think that might be worse,” she whispered, hoarse. “You just… fell out of love?”

 

“Can you sit down?” David asked.

 

“I need you to explain this to me,” Amanda said. “I don’t understand how you can just fall out of love.”

 

“I need you to calm down, and I need you to sit down,” David pleaded. “Amanda, come on.”

 

He finally met her eyes. She stared him down for a moment before slumping. “Fine.” But she made no move to sit down, instead, turning and pulling a bottle from the overhead cabinet. “But I’ll need some help.”

 

She poured whiskey into her mug until it was more alcohol than caffeine. Watching her chug cheap whiskey at eight o’clock on a random January Sunday reminded David of what entranced him to take a chance with her. She was almost exquisite.

 

_ She was almost exquisite.  _

 

_ Almost, because she had wine staining the sleeves of her yellow dress, yet exquisite because David was pretty sure she was on her fourth beer yet she showed no signs of inebriation. Her green eyes were a bit brighter than he thought they should be, and her hair stuck up in a bit of a crazy way, and she was stunning. _

 

_ David was thrilled to see so many of his coworkers loosening up, but he couldn’t help but be tense. He had never been one for parties. Jack had always been his crutch.  _

 

_ “You made it through your first month, Dave!” A hand suddenly clapped his back, and David turned to see the man who taught next door to him. His class was always too loud when David was trying to give a test. “Xavier living up to your dreams?” _

 

_ “Ha, it is. Thanks,” David said awkwardly. “Do you like your class this year?” _

 

_ But the man was already throwing up on his shoes.  _

 

_ “Incredible,” David muttered, stepping out of the sticky mess. He could feel the warmth seeping through the thin fabric of his shoes.  _

 

_ Amanda stepped up. “Here, let me help you, David,” she smiled. “Let’s head to the bathroom.” _ _   
_

 

_ Aren’t you drunk?” he asked dumbly as she pulled him away.  _

 

_ “I saw you watching me.” Her eyes had a sly glint to them. “But no. I know how to handle my drinks.” _

 

_ “I don’t,” David admitted. “I was always in charge of corralling my drunk friends. I never built up a tolerance.” _

 

_ “Well, you’ll never have to corral me,” she winked, and- oh God. _

 

_ They were flirting.  _

 

_ David wasn't mad about it. Maybe he liked girls too. _

 

_ They reached the bathroom. “Take off your shoes,” she ordered. “I’ll wash them off.” _

 

_ "My socks are gross.” _

 

_ “You might have to go without,” she sighed. “Wipe off your feet.” _

 

_ David looked around. There was only one towel in the bathroom, a pristine yellow matching the brown granite countertops. The sink was too high up for David to rinse his feet off.  _

 

_ “With what?” _

 

_ Amanda pulled her handkerchief out of a hidden pocket in her dress. “Use my sneezer.” _

 

_ “Am I going to have snot feet?” he asked. _

 

_ She giggled. “Don’t be a goop. It’s clean. I can buy a new one so fast.” _

 

_ As Amanda, this kind, incredible, strong woman, rinsed off his shoes and let him clean the vomit off his feet with her handkerchief, David felt something bubbling up in his chest. Someone was taking care of him. She didn’t seem to need him, but he thought she might want him. That was something he’d never felt.  _

 

_ People always needed him. He needed to work, he needed to help, he needed to lead, he needed to leave. Nobody wanted him. Nobody but Amanda.  _

 

_ “Do you think you’d like to get a coffee with me tomorrow morning?” he asked before he could think about it too much. _

_   
_ _ Amanda paused. When she looked at him, the smile on her face was bigger than David thought possible. “I’d love that.” _

 

The moment passed as she tossed her head back and all David could see was her long hair cascading down her curved back, the movement pushing her chest out. She wasn’t wearing a bra yet in the morning chill and David knew he should be excited but he was just so indifferent he winced. There was no more bubbling in his chest. No more butterflies in his stomach. 

 

Amanda slammed her empty mug onto the table. “Explain yourself,” she said, rubbing her hand clumsily across her wet lips. 

 

“You deserve love that my heart can’t give you,” David started. “I would be living a lie if I stayed with you, and that would hurt both of us.”

 

“Sounds selfish,” Amanda muttered. 

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you this way,” David protested. “I’m not what you need. I have to be on my way, Amanda, we’re not going to be good together if I don’t think I can love you like you deserve to be.”

 

“Can’t I decide how I deserve to be loved?” she asked sadly. “Who says you get to choose for me? Maybe I think this is enough.”

 

“You’re going to thank me, one day,” David told her softly. “When we’re more grown up, you’ll be married, have kids, and you’ll be so glad I didn’t keep you caged up.”

 

“But I don’t feel caged up.”

 

“You need to be free.” David’s throat felt like it was closing up. “Come on, Amanda.”

 

“I just don’t get it.”

 

_ “I just don’t get it.” _

 

_ “Get what?” _

 

_ “How you know all these people so well yet I’ve never heard of them.” Amanda gave him a pointed look.  _

 

_ “I don’t talk about my childhood much,” David said.  _

 

_ “You didn’t tell me you knew The Joseph Pulitzer personally!” Amanda playfully smacked him. “I mean, you got an actual invitation to his funeral.” _

 

_ “He wasn’t a great guy, Amanda,” David sighed. “He made life for all these people terrible. I just played a small role in helping out.” _

 

_ “Small role!”   _ _ David and Amanda turned to see Racetrack Higgins leaning on Spot Conlon. “Don’t listen to the Mouth, he was Cowboy’s number two in this whole thing. He had the whole idea for the rally that got everyone together.” _

 

_ Amanda grinned. “David! One of the leaders! Oh, I’m so proud!” She forced her way into squeezing his middle. _

 

_ While trying to breathe through her vice-like arms, David bit his lip and looked to Race. They both knew that things would be changing soon. It hurt to realize that nothing he ever did would have a permanent effect. Race and Spot turned away. When Amanda let go, David looked down at her and realized she would never get it. _

 

“I just don’t get how you can say you want the best for me and still go and dump me.”

 

“I want you to be happy.”

 

Amanda was uncharacteristically small. “I’m happy when I’m with you.”

 

David’s heart ached. “Oh, Amanda.”

 

She looked at him with sad eyes. “Can’t we just push through this? We can work it out.”

 

“Amanda, I already told you, I don’t love you.” David felt cruel. 

 

“I can handle it,” she told him confidently, but David could tell it hurt.

 

“Do you really want to be with someone who doesn’t love you?”

 

She deflated. “I just really don’t want you to go.”

 

“I know.” They sat quiet for a moment. “I wish I could stay,” he said finally.

 

Amanda didn't answer. The sun kept rising until it was too high to shed its light directly into their kitchen, and the morning glow faded to an afternoon gloom. David’s coffee was cold. He needed Amanda to speak first. He knew he had no place to tell her how to feel. She didn’t need him to help her out. 

 

After however long, she sniffled. David hadn’t noticed she’d been crying. He felt like an asshole. Her voice was small. “I don’t know what to do now.”   
  


_ “I don’t know what to do now,” he sobbed. _

 

_ “Elmer, what’s wrong? Hey, talk to me pal,” David said frantically, tugging the wailing Elmer inside out of the snow.  _ _   
_

 

_ "David?” Amanda asked, standing from the couch. _

 

_ “Could you get a warm rag for me?” _

 

_ “Of course.” She hurried off without another question. _

 

_ David sat Elmer down. “What’s wrong, buddy?” _

 

_ “There wasn’t enough milk,” Elmer hiccuped. “We tried, but Sofia wasn’t making any, and we couldn’t afford to buy any. There was a-a shortage, and the prices went up. We couldn’t get any.” _

 

_ David’s blood ran cold. He thought of Elmer at Pulitzer’s funeral, trying to appear glum for the papes, but not succeeding in fighting the urge to show off the pictures of his newborn. “What are you saying, Elmer?” _

 

_ Elmer just cried harder. He uncurled one of his fists and revealed a crumpled photograph, one showing a smiling little baby boy with deep brown eyes. “Oscar’s gone,” he choked out, and David wanted to throw up.  _

 

_ Amanda scurried back in with a rag. “Here you go, darling.” She handed it to David who could just numbly reach out a hand. His fingers couldn’t grip the fabric, and it fell to the floor.  _

 

_ “Oh, you,” she scolded, sadly, and picked the rag back up and sat on the arm of the couch, next to Elmer. “Look up, sweetheart.” David watched as she wiped Elmer’s tears away. “Come on now, no need to cry.” _

 

_ “Amanda,” David said softly, quickly, a warning. He shook his head subtly.  _

 

_ “Alright.” She retreated her hands. “I’ll leave you boys to it.” _

 

_ Later that night, after David walked Elmer back home and promised to visit the next day, Amanda laid next to him to ask about it.  _

 

_ “Why’d he come here?” _

 

_ “Kelly was like a father figure to those boys for a while,” David tried. “He’s all the way in New Mexico, so I’m next in line.” _

 

_ “But you never talk to each other,” she pointed out. “You can’t still be close.” _

 

_ “Elmer spent his childhood living on the streets or in the lodging house with a bunch of other boys. Living in there changed how everyone felt.” _

 

_ “You didn’t live there, did you?” Amanda asked. “I mean, you had your parents.” _

 

_ “I did, but I still slept in the lodging house a lot.” He did not explain why. “We’re just close.” _

 

_ “I guess I don’t understand,” she said, but wasn’t upset. _

 

_ “I guess you don’t,” he responded, but was.  _

 

“Me neither.”

 

“Should we both move out?” she asked. “I don’t think I can afford this place on my own.”

 

“I can pay my portion of rent,” David offered. “I’ll stay with Sarah.”

 

Amanda sighed. “I can’t ask you to do that. Not with your past.”

 

David grimaced. 

 

“I can find someone to stay with,” she said, falsely confident. “I’m sure one of the ladies at school would keep me.”

 

“Amanda, I’ll stay with Sarah and keep paying until the lease ends.” David drummed his fingers on the lace of his napkin, some girly thing Amanda had brought from her mother’s house and forced them to use. “Sarah won’t mind. I’ll use my savings.”

 

Amanda didn’t seem convinced. “I know how hard you’ve worked, David, I don’t want to put you in a bad situation.”

 

“I brought this on myself,” he said with finality. “I’ll be out whenever you want me to be.”

 

“Could you be out now?”

 

“You’re being childish,” he snapped.

 

“You’re right.” There was a pause. “I don’t know the right time to say.”

 

“Do you want me to sleep here tonight?”

 

Amanda thought for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

 

“Then I’ll pack a bag this afternoon.”

 

“Can we stay now?” she asked quickly. “I still want to talk."

 

“Of course.” David sat still. He stopped drumming his fingers. The kitchen was silent.

 

Then, she asked, “When did you know?”   
  


_ “When did you know? _

 

_ “Know what?” David asked. _

 

_ “That you wanted to be a teacher,” Amanda asked. “That man at the funeral said you were one of the leaders of that strike. Why didn’t you go into law?” _

 

_ David shrugged. “The strike was stressful. Law is too tricky. You never know who you can trust and who will give in for just a couple bucks.” _

 

_ “So dark,” she giggled. _

 

_ They were standing on a bridge, looking down at the Hudson, David leaned on the railing holding Amanda’s shroud, Amanda gripping the bars and stretching out over as far as she could without falling. Somehow, the gray of the air made her eyes brighter and her freckles seemed darker against her pale cheeks. David’s heart was heavy from the funeral, hating that he could feel such indifference toward a death when Katherine was near inconsolable in Sarah’s arms. Cruel or not, he was still a man.  _

 

_ A storm was drawing in. Amanda’s hair whipped about in the spiteful wind, and David couldn’t tear his eyes from the strands. He struggled to breathe; her hair was too yellow, too long, too female, like a noose around his neck, squeezing all the life out of him. _

 

_ “I just wish this moment could last forever,” Amanda sighed, leaning on the railings, looking over the wretched waves of the dark waters.  _

 

_ The cold of the air stained David’s cheeks a dim red and the ocean spray dampened his hair. His suit was sure to be ruined from the salt, the black already speckled with water and bound to wrinkle and shrink. Amanda’s black shroud was heavy in his arms, and her cream dress was stark in the gloom.  _

 

_ In that moment, hours after a funeral, Amanda not understanding what Pulitzer’s death meant to him, David not understanding how he still didn’t love her, he knew. They were over.  _

 

“I can’t think of a specific moment,” David lied. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I don’t want an apology,” she told him. 

 

“Then I don’t know what to say.”

 

“I think it might be best if you washed your dishes and packed your bag now instead of later.” Amanda stood up suddenly. “I’m going to shower and then go to the store while you work.”

 

She walked off without another word. David stood up slowly, his back popping, and began stacking up all the dishes. Amanda may have told him to wash  _ his  _ dishes but she meant wash  _ all _ the dishes. As the water heated up, he took in his kitchen for maybe the last time. Each countertop was stained with memories; some good, some bad, some undeniably hot, some heart wrenching, all important parts of his life. It would likely be a while before he could afford another place so nice. He’d need a roommate or a partner and, well. David couldn’t stand being with a woman and was too terrified to try another man.

 

Jack came to mind frequently. Embarrassingly frequently, actually. David wondered if Jack stuck so well because he was just the only man David knew or perhaps there was a part of him still in love with that dime-novel cowboy that believed in a fantasy. 

 

Of course he was still in love. 

 

Dads, coworkers, the men who helped Sarah and Katherine move to a bigger house (Sarah struck gold with her girlfriend. David was only a little jealous), even strangers on the streets appealed to him, but he couldn’t get off to the math teacher’s beard or the dock worker’s muscles like he could to the memories he had of Jack back in their old bedroom.

 

A blush spreading across David’s cheeks shook him back to reality. He felt sick at himself. Thinking about Jack when he had just crushed Amanda.

 

She walked back in, her hair sopping and dark, her skin scrubbed raw and red, wearing a brown dress with gold detailing that Katherine had given her for her birthday. David wondered if she remembered how she got the dress. 

 

“I’m going out now,” she announced.

 

“Do you want me to be here when you get back?”

 

Amanda pondered. “Yes,” she said. “I want to make sure you have enough. I don’t want this to be the last I see you.”

 

“Alright.” David nodded. “I’ll be here.”

 

“I’ll be back,” she said, and twirled herself out of the room. Despite the situation, David found himself smiling at her. 

 

Amanda was different. 

 

_ Amanda was different.  _

 

_ She let her blonde hair hang loose rather than putting in those tight pin curls most women were obsessed with.  _

 

_ She wore dresses with pockets and patches and still managed to look properly put together. _

 

_ She smeared a thin smudge of charcoal across her eyelid to accentuate the bright green of her eyes. _

 

_ She didn’t powder her skin and let the freckles stand out.  _

 

_ Amanda liked flowers and sunshine but she also read and wrote and danced and had plans for her future. She let no man take advantage of her. _

 

_ David noticed her first when he started. He walked into the teacher’s lounge on a Monday during lunchtime, needing to write some letters home and eat his own food away from his students. Xavier boys were so stuck up. _

 

_ A gaggle of teacher assistants stood near the coffeemaker, each woman holding a paper cup and gossiping quietly, yet still loudly enough for David to hear them. _

 

_ “Did you see the new teacher?” _

 

_ “He’s so cute.” _

 

_ “I hear he’s Jewish.” _

 

_ “Ugh, my mom would absolutely go batty.” _

 

_ “I’ve heard that those Jews are real grousers.” _

 

_ “Patricia! Be nice!” _

 

_ David needed them to stop.He stepped toward them. “Does anyone have a pencil I could borrow? I have to write a note to one of my boys’ parents.” _

 

_ Amanda gave him her nicest pencil. It was a silver, mechanical pencil, a kind David had only seen in Katherine’s bag or on Pulitzer’s desk the one time he was in that room. _

 

_ “Thanks,” he smiled.  _

 

_ “Keep it,” she breathed. _

 

_ “But it’s so nice, I can’t take this.”He frowned. _

 

_ She waved him off. “It’s nothing special. Just a little pencil.” _

 

_ “Well, thanks again.” He nodded and waved at the group, walking off with a grin still on his face.  _

 

_ The women immediately burst into titters and giggles but Amanda just stood there, smiling at him. All through the break, he felt her watching, and something about her gaze felt different.  _

 

_ He told Sarah about Amanda later. She said she was excited for him, but he could tell she was worried. She was worried he was repressing his true feelings as she’d done for so long. David dismissed her. He hoped Jack had just been a fluke.  _

 

With Amanda gone, the house was too quiet. David set his dishes, old green china passed down from Amanda’s great grandmother in Ireland, on the drying rack, and left the kitchen for a final time. 

 

The bedroom he and Amanda shared was messy. He remembered leaving a relatively neat room with a made bed when he went for breakfast. A heartbreaking image of Amanda crying and tearing apart their room while he scraped egg out of a bowl popped up. He hated himself a little.

 

“Do I pack it all now or leave some for later?” he said out loud. Then he shook his head. “Nobody’s home, you goop.”

 

He decided to pack almost everything; only leaving what he wouldn’t miss, in case Amanda didn’t want to let him back in. Shirts, pants, socks, ties, pictures of his mom, letters from Les in college, trinkets from Sarah, an old newspaper with his youthful face beaming up at him, Jack grinning just as wide right next to him. David’s eyes watered.

 

As he emptied his last drawer, he pulled out a dress. One of Amanda’s older dresses, probably too small, definitely not missed for however long it had been lost in his socks. David hesitated for a moment. He should give it back. Or he could keep it. Something to remember her by. 

 

Even though he felt such relief in finally leaving her, finally accepting that women just weren’t for him, he couldn’t walk away from the last four years of his life with nothing to remember her by but his memories. 

 

Four years. God. How did he get so lost in their relationship? He barely knew Jack for five years and was still so hung up yet leaving Amanda was unnervingly easy. 

 

The dress went into his bag. 

 

David glanced out the window and took in the night. The sky was clear, letting the stars wink down at him through the pollution from the factories. In a moment of existentialism, he realized he’d never look at the sky from just that spot ever again. The view he’d gotten so used to over the past two years would be just a memory. 

 

“You stayed.”

 

David turned. “Of course I did.”

 

“I was worried you’d run off,” Amanda admitted, slowly making her way into their bedroom. “You all packed up?”

 

“I have just about everything in here, I think.” David lifted a bag. He had two more beside him.

 

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Do you think you can carry all three of those to Sarah’s by yourself?”

 

“I was thinking I’d take a cab over.”

 

“Can you afford that?” she asked, pursing her lips. “Taxi Cabs are expensive, David.”

 

He tried to offer a sly grin. “I’ll make Katherine pay me back.”

 

Amanda sighed. “I’d like to believe that, but I know you won’t.” She fished in her purse and pulled out two dollars. “Take this.

 

“Amanda,” David sighed. “Come on.”

 

“Just to help,” she pleaded, brandishing the bills out with a shaking hand. “I just want to help.”

 

“Why?” 

 

“Because even though you don’t love me anymore,” she said lowly, “I still love you.”

 

David silently accepted the money. 

 

“You’d better head out now, before it gets too late,” she told him.

 

“I guess I should.” David hauled up his three bags, two in one hand, the money crumpled and shoved in his pocket. 

 

“Is there anything else you need?”

 

David smiled at her. “I’m all good. I just hope Sarah and Katherine will let me in.”

 

Amanda smacked his arm. “You know they will.” They started walking. “Hey, tell them they can still come over anytime. We were friends, right?”

 

“They’ll visit,” David promised.

 

Amanda opened the door. David stepped out.

 

“Well,” he said, but didn’t continue.

 

They looked at each other for a moment. 

 

“We had good times, right?” she asked, leaning on the door. 

 

David smiled. “We did. I’ll always remember you.”

 

She huffed a laugh, small and sad. “I just can’t believe this.”

 

_ “I just can’t believe this." _

 

_ “It’s not that big of a deal, Dad,” David muttered. _

 

_ “It is to me!” Mayer put his head in his hands. “I thought you were…” he lifted his head, “weird.” _

 

_ Sarah snorted from her seat. David glared. “Amanda and I have been together for a long time now.” _

 

_ “And I still don’t believe it,” Mayer sighed. “Your mother and I set you up with Ruth so many times and all you did was fight it.” _

 

_ David turned to Sarah. “Does he want me to be weird?” he asked. “It feels like he doesn’t like that I’m with a woman.” _

 

_ “Don’t get me wrong,” Mayer interjected as Sarah giggled more. “I’m thrilled you’re with Amanda. But you’re not engaged! You’re not married!” _

 

_ “It’s 1910 now, grow up, Dad,” Sarah joked. “It’s really not important. I live with Katherine, don’t I?” _

 

_ “You two are different,” he snarled. “We know for a fact you’re weird.” _

 

_ “And yet you still made me dinner.” She shrugged. “I think it’s a good step for them.” _

 

_ “It’s about time you moved out of that nutty guy’s apartments. You’re such a grouser when you talk about him,” Les said. “You and Amanda better find a killer place.” _

 

_ “We have,” David promised. “That’s why I’m telling you.” _

 

_ “I still don’t like it,” Mayer muttered. _

 

_ “And I don’t care,” David retorted.  _

 

_ Later that night, David thought about a similar moment, dancing in the moonlight with Jack, but in reality he and Amanda were swaying to the scratching tunes of a record under a dim yellow light, kept cool by the creaky fan. Even though the night was different, David thought maybe he could be happy.  _

 

“I’m sorry it had to end like this,” he said, smiling to match her laugh. 

 

“Me too.” She looked in his eyes one last time. “Goodbye, David.

 

“Goodbye, Amanda.” He turned his back on the woman he’d been with for so long, and walked away.

 

The door made an audible click closing behind him. David closed his eyes for a moment, but kept on.

 

He was lucky enough to hail a cab fairly quickly; drivers typically didn’t pick up people like him, as in, people who looked too poor to afford a ride. Maybe the driver was sympathetic. 

 

“Girl kick you out, huh?” he tried, his voice gruff. 

 

“Something like that,” David murmured, his gaze focused out the window and on the shrinking image of the apartment complex. 

 

They didn’t talk for the rest of the drive. 

 

Sarah and Katherine lived in an unfairly nice neighborhood, their house huge and honestly daunting. The quality meant distance and David blanched when he was asked to cough up six bucks. Amanda’s two dollars were an actual blessing.

 

Nerves fluttered in David’s stomach as he stood on Sarah’s porch, bags at his feet. He hadn’t told her he was going to break up with Amanda. He hadn’t even told her he was thinking about it. For all Sarah knew, David and Amanda were at home on the couch, reading or dancing or cooking in the comfort of each other’s presence. David wondered what Sarah and Katherine were up to. He hoped they were home.

 

_ Knock knock knock. _

 

Sarah opened the door. “David!” she exclaimed, breathless, and David watched as her face flew through expressions.

 

There was confused happiness, then she took him in and there was anger, more confusion, sadness, curiosity, fury. 

 

“Hey sis,” he said.

 

“What happened?”

 

“I uh…” he trailed of.

 

“Spit it out, David.” 

 

Katherine appeared behind Sarah. 

 

“I broke up with Amanda.”

 

Both women stared.

 

“You what?” Katherine was the first to speak.

 

“I realized I couldn’t stay with her.” David shrugged. “I told her she could stay in the apartment and I’d crash with you guys.”

 

“Of course you did,” Sarah sighed, weary, and stepped back. “Well, come in, good thing we’ve got the guest room all ready.”

 

Katherine stepped out to pick up one of David’s bags. “Come on now, darling, help your brother out.”

 

Sarah huffed and grabbed a bag.

 

The guest room was bigger than David and Amanda’s living room. David just wanted to fall on the bed and sleep for a week.

 

Katherine dropped his bag by the closet door and sat in a plush chair in the corner. “I’d help you unpack, but I don’t want to,” she said.

 

David and Sarah put down their bags by the first one, and David plopped down onto the bed. The mattress was far more plush than any he had ever had. The duvet was thick and soft and decorated with bright pink squares that didn’t match the gloomy January air.

 

“Thank you for letting me stay,” he said softly.

 

“Why’d you do it?” Sarah asked, sitting next to him on the bed. “Why’d you leave her? I thought you two were fine.”

 

“I didn’t love her.”

 

“But why now?”

 

David shrugged. “I just couldn’t do it anymore. I always felt so awful, dragging her on like that when I never really loved her. She was expecting a proposal.”

 

“But there’s another reason isn’t there?” Sarah frowned. “It’s not just that you don’t love her. You’re still hung up on Jack, aren’t you?”

 

“I’m not  _ hung up _ ,” David said angrily. “I’m just realizing that I love him and it’s not fair to Amanda to be with her when I’m thinking of Jack.”

 

“Oh come on David, how long is it gonna take until you move on from him?” Sarah groaned. “There are other men in New York who’d love a guy like you, you know.”

 

“I don’t think it’s the right time for me to try,” David protested. “I just got out of a four year relationship.”

 

“And you just told me you didn’t love her at all.” 

 

“That doesn’t mean I’m not hurting!”

 

“Hurting or not, you shouldn’t still be thinking of him!”

 

“Sarah-” 

 

Their words grew heated.

 

“He’s bad for you, thinking of him is bad for you, I don’t understand-”

 

“Stop it.”

 

“All I’m saying is you have to get him out of your head, I mean, it’s been almost eight years David.”

 

“Sarah, stop.”

 

“And he left, right when Mom was dying, right when she got sick, not even offering to stay for you. How sick is that? How can you love someone who abandoned you like that? Why don’t you hate him?”

 

“Stop it! Stop it, Sarah!” he yelled. “I can’t!” He panted. “I can’t hate him. I’m sorry.”

 

“David-”

 

“I know I should,” he interrupted. “I should. He deserves it. I’m mad, and upset, but I don’t hate him. I never will. The past eight years have proved that.”

 

“You need to  _ move on, _ ” she stressed. “You can't stay hung up on him hoping he’ll come back. It won’t happen.”

 

“I know,” he said again, sadder. “I will move on. I just can’t hate him. I know you’ve hated him for a long time, but Sarah, I’m always going to love him. Can’t you understand?”

 

Sarah’s eyes flickered to Katherine, and she deflated. “I get it,” she said, finally. “I just need you to be happy.”

 

“I’m trying,” David said. “I’m not going to say that if he showed up here, I wouldn’t accept him in a heartbeat, but I’m going to try and move on. I’ll do my best to be happy without him. I’ll find someone better.”

 

Sarah groaned. “I know you want someone you’d risk it all for, but maybe that’s not what’s healthy for you.” She took David’s hand. “Jack, he’s so far away. You need to find someone you actually want. Don’t set your standards to what you had with Jack.”

 

“I’m doing everything I can,” he said, defeated. “Can’t you just let me deal with my own emotions?”

 

Sarah swallowed. “I’m proud of you for leaving Amanda,” she told him after a beat of silence. “I know being with her must’ve been hard.”

 

“Thanks,” David whispered. 

 

“It’s late,” Katherine piped up. “And I bet it’s been a long day for David. Why don’t we all go to sleep now, and we can talk more tomorrow?”

 

She pushed Sarah gently into the hallway, but turned to David instead of following. “I know what you’re going through,” she said. “Jack left me too. You just need to stop romanticizing him so much. I know what that cowboy charm does to you, but really, Jack wasn’t all that great. I can help you find someone.” She hugged him tightly. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. Alright?”

 

“Alright.”

Without them in his room to yell at him, David felt unbearably alone. He missed Amanda, even though he knew he really didn’t. He really missed Jack.

 

Katherine was right that Jack had his charm that kept people hooked, but she wasn’t with him long. She didn’t see him the way David did. Katherine wasn’t there when Jack broke down, or when he was drunk, or when he first woke up in the morning and would trace his fingers down David’s spine to wake him up just enough to say,  _ stay in bed, I’ll bring you breakfast. _ She didn’t have that kind of love with him. David did. 

 

-

 

Going back to Xavier on Monday was torture. David couldn’t walk there like he could from the apartment, and had to shell out a few more dollars to take a taxi. He wished he could’ve used Katherine’s car. 

 

The boys in his class seemed to notice something was off. David was relieved that they were calmer than usual. 

 

“Jacobs, do you and the missus want to come down to P.J. Clarke’s with Gracie and I for lunch?” Mr. Dawson from next door asked, poking his head in and interrupting David’s lecture on why to use the oxford comma, even though all the grammar books didn’t say it was necessary.

 

“Uh, not today, Dawson,” David said awkwardly. “Sorry.”

 

“What, I thought Amanda loved it down there. Here, let me ask her, and maybe she’ll convince you, huh?” he winked.

 

“No,” David said quickly, almost yelling. “No, don’t ask Amanda. I kinda…” he glanced to his students and walked closer to Dawson, speaking in a whisper. “I kinda broke things off this weekend. I haven’t seen her since, so I don’t know how she’s doing.”

 

“Oh damn.” Dawson rubbed the back of his neck. “Real sorry about that, pal.”

 

David waved him off. “You and Gracie have fun.”

 

“Right. Uh, sorry for interrupting.” Dawson ducked out, head hung low.

 

David just sighed and resumed his lecture, positive that everyone in the class had heard him.

 

He did catch one glimpse of Amanda, right after the boys went home for the day, as she sped past his classroom with a stack of papers. She didn’t look at him.

 

David stayed late that night, sat at his desk, grading papers and tests for hours. The school shut down around him until a night janitor peeked in and told him that everyone was gone and if he wanted his room cleaned, he should head out soon too.

 

As he collected his papers, David’s heart weighed him down. He had hoped that leaving Amanda would mean he was happy, that he didn’t feel the crushing weight of emotion like he did with the guilt of leading her on. But he was just so lonely. Nobody to go home to but his sister and her rich girlfriend. He wanted a real relationship.

 

David paused on his walk back to Sarah’s, tipping his head back and leaning to look up at the stars. They were just dim blinks of light above the smog of New York. David wondered what the sky looked like in Santa Fe. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine it. 

 

The thousands of lights, winking down from above, wrapped around the yellow moon. The vast expanse of sky over them was like a blanket, warm and safe. Jack sat there, holding his hand, laughing, holding, kissing.

 

_ “If you ever miss me too bad, just look at the sky. I promise I will be too.” _

 

Something in the hollow drum of David’s heart told him that Jack wasn’t thinking of him. The sky of Santa Fe left no room for memories of the smoky gray nights with David.

 

Besides, eight years was a long time. 

 

A small voice inside him piped up.  _ Just another six years until you’re thirty-eight. Remember? _

 

David tried to ignore it and move on, but all he could feel was crushing loneliness under the burdensome moonlight. 

 

He just wanted to be happy. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cabs were a thing in the late 1890s then the company failed then a guy started it back up in 1910 and charged 50 cents a mile which was for rich ppl only basically.
> 
> in one scene i kinda referenced a poem- porphyria's lover- yall should check it out its kinda creepy but it inspired me
> 
> pulitzer died in october 1911 and later that year there was a milk shortage in nyc that resulted in many babies dying :(
> 
> if any of the jumping around In this chapter confused u hmu and i can give more detail abt the timeline :) thanks 4 the patience.


	11. 1903

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so weird to me because in late october i had such a depressive episode i was sadder than i ever been and this song (you matter to me) from waitress was the only thing i listened to and i got this chapter out of that repeated listening and the need to think of something other than how sad and lonely i was and im doing better now but revisiting that time through this chapter and this song… it’s kinda weird. sarah next chapter tho.

“David, this is Ruth.”

  
  


_ Uh oh. _

  
  
  


David shut the door behind him quietly. “Hi, Ruth,” he said uncomfortably. “Mom?”

  
  
  


Esther just smiled and clapped her hands together. “Ruth is from Sarah’s factory. They make dresses together.”

  
  


“So she’s here for Sarah?”

  
  


“No, darling,” Esther said, quietly, “she’s here for you.”

  
  


“For me…”

  
  


Ruth stepped up. “Hi, I’m Ruth Bransky. I think our parents met at temple.”

  
  


“At temple…” David absentmindedly waved at her. “I’m uh, I’m David.”

  
  


Ruth giggled. The shrill sound hurt David’s ears. “I know that, silly.”

  
  


“Alright, well I’m officially baffled here,” David said. “I thought I was just popping over to get some of my old books.”

  
  
  


“I do have those for you too, but I thought I could introduce you to Ruth, maybe you’d stay for dinner.” Esther winked at David. He winced.

  
  
  


“You know I’d love to stay, Ma, but Jack will be waiting home with supper. We’ve got some people coming over.”

  
  
  


Esther’s face fell. “You can’t stay even for a little?” she pleaded. “I’ve got some Holishkes warming up, and your father spent an unreasonable amount of money on a nice wine, won’t you sit with us?”

  
  


And David really wanted to go home, he really wanted to head back to Jack’s arms with an old bag of books and eat good food with Crutchie and Finch and maybe end the night laying around a fire on the roof, but he was raised right and who was he to bail on his mother?

  
  


“I can stay for a little,” he caved, “but if I’m here too long Jack’s bound to be worried.”

  
  


“Who’s Jack?” Ruth asked. “I thought your only other son was Les.”

  
  


“Jack is David’s… roommate,” Esther said.

  
  
  


“Jack’s my best friend,” David elaborated. “We live together just because it’s easy.”

  
  


Their excuse was well rehearsed, not too detailed to arouse suspicion, but not too vague to spur further questioning. It’s easy, it’s close to both their jobs, the rent’s cheap, they’re close to their other friends.

  
  
  


“That’s fun!” Ruth said. “I’m glad you can stay.” She turned to Esther. “I’m going to check on the food, okay?”

  
  


Esther nodded warmly as Ruth left. Then she turned to David, frowning. “Why are you so cold to her?” she hissed. “Ruth is a sweet girl. Give her a chance, David.”

  
  


“I just wish you would’ve told me before I got here,” he groaned, slumping. “I really can’t stay long, Ma, Jack’s waiting.”

  
  


“I wish you’d spend more time without that boy,” Esther scolded. “You know I love him like he’s one of my own, but people are going to start talking.”

  
  


“Talking?”

  
  


“Your father is afraid people are going to think you’re a… well, a queer,” she whispered the word. “I say, let people think what they want because they’re wrong, but he’s worried.”

  
  


“I see.” David frowned. “So, was Ruth his idea?”

  
  


“He supports it, you could say.”

  
  


Boy, that stung. David hated his father in that moment. He wasn’t too pleased with his mom, either, actually. He had hoped that they’d never comment on him and Jack, that they’d spend their days in New York with nobody questioning it and run off to Santa Fe with nobody to bother them.

  
  
  


Wishful thinking.

  
  
  


“I don’t think this is how I’m going to find someone.” He chose his words carefully. “I need to find someone… naturally.”

  
  
  


Esther tilted her head slightly, furrowing her brow and reaching up to stroke David’s hair. Her touch was gentle. “You’re growing up,” she told him. “You’re almost twenty three. I want you to have someone.”

  
  


“I don’t have to get married now,” he countered, leaning just slightly out of her reach. “I’m not that old yet.”

  
  


“I’m just worried,” she sighed, bringing her hands back down to twist at each other. “Back home, you had a kiddushin with Batya, do you remember?”

  
  


David blinked. “No, I didn’t know that. Where does she live now?”

  
  
  


Esther looked down. “Her family was supposed to come with us, but Batya and her sisters became very sick the day before the ship left. I haven’t heard from them since.”

  
  


Batya was a girl from his old home, across the ocean, in a whole other world, a whole other lifetime. She had always been short and loud and her skin was just a shade darker than everyone else’s. David hoped she was okay. “Why are you telling me this?”

  
  


“I just want you to know that finding the right girl is important and you should try with whoever you can.” Esther shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but the movement was forced. “You and Batya could have been married by now.”

  
  
  


David didn’t like that thought. “You think Ruth can make up for Batya?”

  
  


“I think Ruth is a step in the right direction.”

  
  


The look Esther gave David said you better stay for dinner and be nice to the girl.

  
  
  


David obeyed.

  
  
  


It was just him, Ruth, and his parents at dinner. Sarah was working a night shift and Les was studying with some friends until late. David suspected their absences were on purpose.

  
  
  


“I know you said you had friends waiting for you, but after you taste my cooking, I think you’ll want to stay.” Ruth brought out a steaming pot that honestly smelled incredible. Despite the situation, David’s mouth watered.

  
  
  


Conversation while eating was stilted. Ruth was obviously trying to flirt, and David was obviously shutting her down.

  
  
  


“I hear you’re a teacher, David,” Ruth tried. “That has to be such a fulfilling job.”

  
  


“Yeah.” He gave a half smile. “It’s great, shaping their minds.”

  
  


“He teaches at a public school now,” Mayer interjected, “but he’s going to move to a nicer school soon. His job now is just a placeholder until he can go back to school.”

  
  


“My job now is a placeholder until I can move out west with Jack,” David corrected. His heart pounded. “I’ve told you about our plans a lot.”

  
  


“Yeah, but those are silly plans.” Esther waved him off. “Don’t listen to him,” she told Ruth. “He and his friend just have a silly fantasy. Jack’s been talking about Santa Fe for longer than we’ve known him.”

  
  


Ruth looked to David. She seemed worried. “Santa Fe, huh?”

  
  
  


“Jack’s mom used to talk about it a lot.” If David could talk about anything, he could go on and on about Jack. “It’s still pretty new. The territory isn’t even a state yet. We just want to go and start fresh. I don’t really like living in a city, and he’s been stuck here his whole life, so we figured we could go together.”

  
  


“David and Jack are like brothers,” Esther said, almost desperately. “Jack was like another son of mine when they were teenagers.”

  
  


Ruth bit her lip. “I’m not all that attached to this city, but Santa Fe is so far.”

  
  
  


Mayer turned to David, covering his mouth from Ruth’s view and mouthing I’m not happy with you.

  
  
  


David could sense his parents weren’t happy with him. Perhaps he had some sixth sense.

  
  
  


He sighed. “We’d like to go, but it’s very expensive to leave and start somewhere new. It’ll be awhile before we have enough money. The school year just started last month, so we’ll stay until at least May.”

  
  
  


Ruth seemed to relax at that. “So we have time?”

  
  


“You have plenty of time to convince him to stay,” Esther assured her.

  
  
  


All David could do was pick at a piece of tomato, squishing it and smearing it until it was just as smooth as the rest of the sauce on his plate. The meat weighed heavy in his stomach.

  
  
  


“I’m sure I’ll succeed.” Ruth winked. David flushed.

  
  
  


Esther giggled into her napkin. “Oh!” she tittered. “Now I feel I don’t have to worry about my David running off too far away!”

  
  
  


David stood suddenly. “I should get started on dishes so I can head home soon.”

  
  


Ruth frowned. Esther sighed.

  
  
  


Mayer stood up, and David tensed. “I’ll help with the dishes, son.” His smile was menacingly fake.

  
  
  


Esther seemed to brighten. “The Jacobs boys are always so chivalrous,” she told Ruth. “I made sure to raise him right.”

  
  


“You’ve done a positively hanging job,” Ruth said in return. Her eyes twinkled.

  
  
  


David left.

  
  
  


Mayer’s footsteps were heavy behind him. David sighed and turned. “I’m sorry for being short with her but I wish I had been told this was happening instead of being lied to. I had plans tonight.”

  
  


“That’s not why you’re upset,” Mayer accused.

  
  
  


“Oh come on, Dad,” David groaned. “I’d just like some heads up. It’s been a long day, alright?”

  
  


Mayer turned on the sink. “I just don’t understand you. We work so hard for you, and you barely talk to this nice Jewish girl.” He shook his head. The water started to steam. “I thought I raised a normal kid.”

  
  


“I am normal,” David protested.

  
  
  


Mayer gave him a piercing stare. “We’ll pretend, for now, but I know you’re far from normal.”

  
  


David swallowed. He blinked. “We’ll pretend,” he repeated.

  
  
  


Mayer nodded.

  
  
  


“Alright.” David stepped up. “I’ll wash, you can dry.”

  
  


They stood, side by side, washing dishes, pretending.

  
  
  


Sarah got home while Mayer was drying the last of the dishes. David grabbed her arm and dragged her into his old bedroom. She stumbled behind him.

  
  


“David, what are you doing?” she asked. “Why are you here?”

  
  


“I could ask you the same thing,” he snarled.

  
  
  


“What?”

  
  
  


“Why’d you have to go and sic Ruth on me, huh?” David whispered harshly. “I basically abandoned Jack for this.”

  
  


“Wait, what?” Sarah’s face scrunched up. “Ruth?”

  
  


“Ruth, from your job. Mom’s trying to set me up.” David flicked Sarah’s shoulder. “Now come on, why’d you have to go and introduce them?”

  
  


“I did no such thing,” Sarah defended. “If this is the Ruth I’m thinking of, I would never. Ruth’s a real louse, I don’t like her much at all.”

  
  


“Hold up.” It was David’s turn for confusion. “So they really just set me up with this girl they know nothing about?”

  
  


Sarah pursed her lips, angling her mouth to the side. “Damn.”

  
  
  


“Damn,” David echoed. He leaned heavily against the wall. “This is worse than I thought.”

  
  
  


“I don’t know what to say.”

  
  
  


“I want to go home,” David said to her, looking up with sad eyes. “I don’t want to talk to Ruth.”

  
  


“I’ll distract her.” Sarah patted his shoulder. “You better say bye to Mom fast.”

  
  
  


“Do I have to say bye at all?” he asked childishly.

  
  
  


Sarah rolled her eyes. “Idiot, do you want them to be any angrier with you? I assume you weren’t the perfect gentleman tonight.”

  
  


David looked down, ashamed. “I guess I was rude. But they lied to me! I came over to pick up old books!”

  
  
  


“Lies or not, Dad will be furious if you just slip out.”

  
  


“I guess.”

  
  


“So, I will go talk to Ruth.” Sarah grimaced. “You’re welcome.”

  
  
  


David took a deep breath, and they left Sarah’s room.

  
  
  


Esther and Ruth were sitting together on the couch, Mayer nowhere to be seen.

  
  
  


“Ruth!” Sarah exclaimed, high pitched and fake. “What are you doing here?”

  
  
  


“Oh, Sarah, so good to see you!” Ruth said, with the same tone as Sarah. She didn’t get up. “I’ve just had dinner with your brother.”

  
  


“I see!”

  
  


The room dropped into awkward silence for a moment.

  
  
  


“Well, this has been fun,” David started, but didn’t get to finish, because Ruth finally got up from the couch and dashed to his side, gripping his arm. Her fingers were too tight. 

  
  
  


“Don’t go yet,” she pleaded, eyes wide. “Stay and talk with us, have a coffee.”

  
  


“I don’t like coffee,” David said. It was a lame excuse.

  
  
  


“We have the tea you like in the cabinet,” Esther piped up.

  
  
  


David wanted to die, a little.

  
  
  


“Wait,” Sarah interjected. “Ruth, did you hear that Mr. Davis is firing people?”

  
  


Ruth immediately abandoned David. “What?”

  
  


“Yeah, apparently it’s too expensive to have so many employees. Angela was fired yesterday.” Sarah twisted her hands together, a habit she had picked up from their mother. On the couch, Esther was doing the same, clearly understanding Sarah’s motives.

  
  
  


“Tell me more.” Ruth was glued to Sarah’s side as she started talking some bullshit about their job and how Ruth could keep from being fired.

  
  
  


“Well,” David said again. “I’m off.”

  
  


Esther looked worriedly between David and Ruth, but the girl didn’t seem to care at all. Sarah nodded to him.

  
  
  


“Alright, David,” Esther conceded.

  
  
  


Ruth didn’t even look at him.

  
  
  


Esther walked him to the door, handing off the small bag of books she had lured him in with. She hesitated before opening the door. “David, I’m worried about you. You’re not normal lately.” She smoothed his head. “I think it’s that job of yours.”

  
  


“I’m a teacher, Ma.” David deflated. He was so close to freedom. “Can we talk about this later? Dad already got onto me about Ruth, and I really have to go. I’m just a teacher, it’s a fine job.” He really didn’t want to fight over his job.

  
  
  


“Well I think that you abandoned your potential by leaving school and you could be much more successful.”

  
  


It didn’t seem to matter what David wanted.

  
  
  


“Ma-”

  
  


“I agree with your mother,” Mayer interrupted, coming in out of nowhere. “Your low end job is an embarrassment to our family.”

  
  
  


“An  _ embarrassment _ ,” David choked, affronted. “What the hell, Dad?”

  
  


“Don’t curse at me,” Mayer snapped. “I’m your father.”

  
  


“I raised you to be respectful,” Esther murmured, shaking her head. “I don’t understand this side of you.”

  
  


“What’s happening here?” David asked.

  
  
  


“We’re finally saying what we need to say.” Mayer crossed his arms. “David, you need to grow up.”

  
  


“I am grown,” David protested. “Come on Ma, you were just saying earlier I’m getting old, right?”

  
  


Esther didn’t meet his eyes. “I think you’re old in number, but you and your Jack, with these nonsense Santa Fe dreams…” she shook her head. “I think he’s getting to your head, darling.”

  
  
  


“You can’t possibly think you’re actually going to Santa Fe with him, do you?” Mayer asked. “Do you think we would let you?”

  
  


“I’m an adult, you can’t control me-”

  
  
  


Mayer spoke over him. “We can and we will. You have to quit your job and you have to go back to school.”

  
  


“I don’t have to do anythin-”

  
  


“You have to!” Mayer roared, shutting David up. “You have to leave this sick lifestyle you’re in.”

  
  


“I’m not sick Dad, I don’t have a clue what’s happening here.” David’s words grew frantic, his heart beating erratically. How had things escalated so quickly?

  
  
  


“You know what I mean.”

  
  


“We’re pretending,” David pleaded. “I thought we were pretending.”

  
  


“We can pretend if you get out of that coward’s job and make a real man of yourself,” Mayer growled.

  
  
  


Esther rubbed David’s arm. He jerked away. “We want what’s best for you darling.”

  
  


“No you don’t.” David started shaking his head, quickly, so quick he made himself dizzy. “You want what’s best for you. Can’t brag about me if I’m just at a public school? Can’t be proud of me?”

  
  


“You’re a talented boy.” Esther remained calm as David’s breathing picked up. “You’re wasting your potential.”

  
  


“I refuse to let you waste away when we came so far to give you a good life.” Mayer left no more room for argument. “Don’t try and act like a good son when you’re throwing away the life we gave you.”

  
  


David swallowed. Fuck. “I like my job.” His voice was hoarse. “You’re my parents, and I appreciate you bringing our family to America, but you don’t get to control me.”

  
  


“Then I don’t want to see you.”

  
  


Mayer turned his back on David and stalked out of the room. David wanted to cry.

  
  
  


“Ma?”

 

 

Esther shook her head. “We want what’s best.” She squeezed his hand. “Maybe it’s best you leave now.”

  
  


“I- alright,” David stammered. “I’ll leave.”

  
  


“Goodnight, David,” she said. “Safe travels home.”

  
  


“Yeah.” And David left.

  
  
  


He was so embarrassed. Ruth and Sarah must have heard the whole fight. He was so hurt. His parents didn’t want to see him. He was so tired. He just wanted to go to sleep.

  
  
  


The walk home was long and dark and hot. New York smelled awful in the summer. David wanted out.

  
  
  


He remembered, months ago, accepting his job, fighting with Jack.

  
  
  


_ “Do we really need a salary, Davey? Ask your folks for help if we need it, ain’t that what folks are for?” Jack whined. “This just ties us down, baby.” _

  
  
  


_ “A salary is good for us. We should be ready to go right in May.” David shrugged. “Besides,my Dad’s not big on charity. He doesn’t like getting or giving help; he’d tell me to do it all on my own.” _

  
  
  


_ Jack huffed fondly. “First thing you ever said to me was that you ain’t some charity case,” he said, pulling David in by the hips. “You really is a Jacobs.” _

  
  
  


_ David smiled proudly. “I guess I am, huh. Just like my Dad.” _

  
  


_ “Alright.” Jack conceded their argument. “A salary is good. Just one year. This will help.” _

  
  
  


God, he had wanted to be like his father. He’s wanted to be like Mayer. So self involved and so conservative. David really wanted to cry.

  
  
  


He didn’t feel particularly inspired by Mayer anymore. Nor by Esther. All they wanted was for him to fit some mold they’d made but never told him the shape of until it was too late. He didn’t fit. Tears pricked his eyes. He couldn’t wait to get home and be with Jack.

  
  
  


When he finally made his way home, Jack was waiting at the door, peering anxiously out of the peephole. David startled him by opening the door suddenly.

  
  
  


“Hey-”

  
  
  


“Davey,” Jack breathed, tugging him into a tight embrace. “Baby, where were you? I was gettin’ worried.”

  
  


David just hugged Jack back, three times as tight. The disappointment of the night came crashing down, and he didn’t care that Crutchie was peeking at them from the kitchen, he just wanted to stand there in Jack’s arms and maybe cry a little.

  
  
  


“Davey?” Jack asked again. “What’s wrong?”

  
  


“I don’t wanna talk about it,” David mumbled petulantly. “Can we just stay here?”

  
  


“Right by the door?” Jack asked, amused. “Come on, baby, what’s up?”

  
  


David pulled away and couldn’t control the trembling of his lips. Jack frowned at him. “My parents are pushin’ a girl at me. They don’t want me to be a queer.” He spat the slur. “Ma made me stick around for dinner with Ruth.”

  
  


Jack swallowed. “Shit.”

  
  


David rubbed a hand down his face. “It sucked,” he sighed. “I’m so tired.”

  
  


Jack leaned up to kiss David gently, pulling lightly at his tie. “Do you want to go to bed?” he asked quietly. “Crutch ‘n Finch’ll understand.”

  
  


“I do,” David said miserably. “I’m so tired.”

  
  


“I know, doll.” Jack trailed a finger across David’s cheek. His touch left tingles in David’s skin. “Go off to bed. I’ll be right there, okay?”

  
  


David stumbled down the hall, dropping his books before he made it to the bedroom. He could hear Jack faintly from the kitchen, explaining the situation to their friends.

  
  
  


“If you two want to stay a while you can, but Davey’s not feelin’ too great and I’m about to head down to take care of him.”

  
  


“I certainly don’t want to stay for that,” Finch joked.

  
  
  


“We’ll go ahead and leave,” Crutchie said. “Tell ‘im to feel better, yeah?”

  
  


“I will,” Jack assured. “Goodnight, you guys. Sorry ‘bout all this.”

  
  
  


“It’s no problem.”

  
  


David loved Crutchie.

  
  
  


Jack quietly made his way to the bedroom. He knocked softly on the doorframe. “Baby?”

  
  
  


David rolled over. “Come to bed, Jackie.”

  
  


Jack toed off his shoes and climbed in next to David. “Are you alright?” he asked.

  
  
  


David shrugged. “I’m tired.”

  
  


“You keep saying that.” Jack ran his fingers though David’s hair. “We can talk later, if you want.”

  
  


“Just wanna be with you.” David wiggled until he was pressed close to Jack. “I missed you.”

  
  


Jack smiled softly, starting to lightly pet David’s hair. “I missed you too,” he whispered. “Is there anything you want?”

  
  


“Just to be here.” David closed his eyes. “God, tonight sucked.”

  
  


“Ruth, huh?"

  
  


“She works with Sarah, but Sarah hates her. We have the same temple.” David started to lose himself in Jack’s touch. “My dad was the one to really push. He hates the idea of people thinking I’m a queer.”

  
  


“And your Ma?”

  
  


David shrugged, or maybe he just imagined he did. The bed was so warm. “She says she doesn’t care what people think, but she really likes Ruth. I can’t tell if she just wants me to have someone, or if she wants me to have a girl.”

  
  


Jack stopped stroking his hair. “I’m sorry, baby.”

  
  
  


David sighed.

  
  
  


“What aren’t you telling me, Davey?” Jack asked, voice low. “I know you.”

  
  


David clenched his eyes shut further, trying to hold in tears but only succeeding in squeezing them out. “After Ruth left, they railed into me,” he choked. “Ma was going on about how she hates my job, Dad was yelling about me leaving school. They think I’m stupid for quitting and accepting my job. They… they blame you a little, think you’re filling my head with nonsense. They don’t want to see me anymore.”

  
  
  


Jack pressed his nose into David’s hair, and David swore he could feel tears dripping onto him. “You ain’t stupid,” Jack rasped. “You’s the smartest guy I know.

  
  


David shifted so he was laying on his side. “I love you, you know,” he said, voice serious. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

  
  


“I love you more,” Jack told him, quietly, and David wanted to cry some more. “I hate that they’re thinking this. I just want you to be happy. I love you more than anything. You’re my favorite person.”

  
  


“You’re too good to me,” David whispered, kissing Jack gently.

  
  
  


“I could find the meaning of life in those sad eyes,” Jack said, honestly, truthfully. “I’m right here beside you, and I’ll stay here as long as you’ll let me.”

  
  
  


David squeezed his eyes shut. Jack pulled him even closer.

  
  
  


“You matter to me. So, so much. Simple and plain, and not too much to ask, you matter to me more than anything.” Jack’s fingers dug into his back. “I promise you do.”

  
  
  


David fell asleep, warm and comfortable and addicted to the feeling that he really did matter, at least to Jack. Even if his parents didn’t want to see him, Jack always would. He didn’t need to run from their love.

  
  
  


When David woke up, it was still dark, and a chilly breeze had made its way under the blanket from where it was pulled back, leaving goosebumps across his arms. Jack wasn’t in bed.

  
  
  


Groggily, David sat up, squinting in the dark. “Jack?” he rasped.

  
  
  


Nobody answered, but a faint smell of smoke and quiet coughing from the fire escape told David where to go. The hardwood floors were icy against his bare feet, so he dragged their comforter, draped around his shoulders, letting it trail across the ground even though he liked to scold Jack for doing to exact thing in the mornings.

  
  
  


David silently settled himself beside Jack, leaning against the railing, wrapping the blanket around both of them, letting him smoke one, two, three cigarettes before he couldn’t just sit anymore. He plucked the fourth out of Jack’s shaking fingers and took it to his own lips, letting the burning smoke fill his lungs and reveling in how his whole body drooped in relaxation.

  
  
  


“I was going to smoke that,” Jack said, gruff and low.

  
  
  


“You can smoke another,” David said. “It’s my turn with this one.”

  
  


Jack rolled his eyes but didn’t light a new one.

  
  
  


“What are you doing up so late?” David asked carefully.

  
  
  


Jack looked down, eyes stuck on the damp alleyway below their apartment. “I don’t know.”

  
  


“Jack,” David pressed gently. “Baby, talk to me.” He stubbed out the cigarette.

  
  


Jack squeezed his eyes shut. David didn’t like how tears dripped out, falling all the way down, down, down, adding to the wetness of the road. It smelled like rain.

  
  
  


“I was livin’ in a fantasy world,” Jack finally said. His voice was faint. David wondered if he was choked up from emotion or if the smoke had burned his throat raw. “I expected her to love us no matter what.”

  
  


“I don’t understand.”

  
  


Jack dragged a hand down his face. “I just-” he sniffed. “When my ma died, I didn’t care what no one thought of me. It didn’t matter. Then I met you, an’ I met your ma, an’ she treated me like I was hers, and I really thought she cared about me.”

  
  


“She loves you Jack, come on.”

  
  


“Not really, not if she really knew me.” He shook his head dejectedly. “She’d call me a- a dirty  _ queer  _ and make you go home and then what would I have?” Jack finally looked up, and his eyes were wide and shiny. It broke David’s heart. “I thought I found a new family, but your ma would do anything to get you away from me.”

  
  
  


“If you’re a dirty queer then I am too,” David said, confidently. He didn’t know how to respond. Jack wasn’t wrong. “She can’t keep me from you.”

  
  


“No, no , no,” Jack said, voice hoarse, strained thin to the point David barely heard him. “I hate you sacrificin’ your family for me. It ain’t fair to you.”

  
  


“How is it any more fair to you?” David countered. “Is it more fair that you didn’t have a family?”

  
  


“I already lost my folks, you shouldn’t have to.” Jack rested his head on David’s shoulder. “I feel so selfish for being upset.”

  
  
  


“Baby.” David kissed Jack’s head. “You love them too. You’re allowed to be upset. You have the right to be hurt.”

  
  
  


“I just-” Jack choked on his words. “I don’t know. I don’t really know anything. I just want us to start our lives in Santa Fe as soon as possible. Far away from this mess.”

  
  


“So far away,” David agreed. He kissed the top of Jack’s head. “But for now, it’s still nighttime.”

  
  


“Sun’s coming up soon,” Jack murmured. “Want to stay up with me?”

  
  


And David really wanted to go back to bed, get a few more hours of sleep before going to work with a bunch of insane children, but Jack’s warm presence held him down.

  
  
  


Jack walked over to an old box resting against the wall and pulled David down to sit with him. David was sat almost between Jack’s legs, leaning on his torso, Jack’s arms tight around his middle. They sat there, twenty minutes straight. Jack didn’t pull away, made no move to speak, didn’t even look at him. He just wrapped David up in his arms and held on tight without an ounce of selfishness to it. David was addicted.

  
  
  


The sun slowly inched up over the horizon. The blanket grew damp with dew and David knew they’d have to hang it during the day so it was dry before night, but he found he didn’t really care. He couldn’t care.

  
  
  


Every worry, every bad thought, every insult uttered by his parents, all floated away until they became faint wisps of cloud in the sky that faded from black to orange to pink to purple before their eyes. David didn’t want the moment to end. He relished Jack’s presence. His warmth. His love.

  
  
  


It was embarrassing to think, definitely too embarrassing to say out loud, but David felt like he didn’t ever want to live in a moment without Jack by his side. He really loved Jack more than he thought anyone could love anything ever. It scared him.

  
  
  


“It scares me sometimes, how much I love ya,” Jack murmured against his ear, softly, comfortingly.

  
  
  


David swallowed the lump in his throat but tears still formed. He blinked one down his cheek. Jack didn’t notice. David didn’t care.

  
  
  


“I’d follow you anywhere,” David said.

  
  
  


He meant it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the amount of comments i get even with updating so infrequently makes me so pleased im always so excited to finally POST !!   
> im not jewish im just trying to include jewish culture if anything is super wrong i am. so sorry. also, i realize that my female characters are all kinda similar i make them too soft bc im gay so i wanted ruth to be a lil different. i dont think i did any big historical research for this one it was titled in my outline as the 'you matter to me interlude' its just a reminder of the relationship this whole thing is about. thank u 4 reading <3<3<3<3


	12. 1917

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nobody is going to read this. 17k. one chapter. okay. sorry for the break i tried to update before may so i could do once a month but here it is, end of may. so very sorry. take this hunk as a gift. 
> 
> early disclaimer- back in october when i began this fic i wasnt so intent on accuracy so i made a note in my planning doc, joseph pulitzer had a son who died on the titanic. no he didnt. i made that up, apparently. but i didnt know i made it up until it was too late. its not all that important i just dont wanna be called out for being a fool. i am a fool.
> 
> enjoy.

_ One, two three, four… eighteen, nineteen, twenty… thirty four, thirty five… forty five, forty six. Forty six days. Forty six days. _

 

_ One, two, three, four... eight, nine, ten, eleven. Eleven days. Eleven days.  _

 

_ Forty six days. Eleven days.  _

 

**46 days**

**11 days**

 

The house was too quiet. 

 

Realistically, Sarah knew that the house couldn’t possibly be too quiet because of her brothers’ absences because David hadn’t lived with them for years and Les had lived uptown until his deployment, but still. Everything was too quiet. 

 

She missed her brothers. She felt impossibly alone, the only Jacobs in America, the only one left to be her family. 

 

During their struggles, Sarah had sacrificed herself over and over again for her family, becoming a frail frame of a person and growing back whole but what it it had all been for nothing? She should have stayed home from work to care for David instead of sticking him on Katherine. She should have helped Les study. Instead, she worked endless hours to the steady beat of 

 

_ I do this for them _

 

and maybe they would die in some strange battlefield overseas anyway. 

 

Sarah prayed for their safe return. 

 

**53 days**

**18 days**

 

K atherine pulled Sarah to bed late at night, kissing her bleeding fingertips, echoing the days over a decade before when Sarah worked herself to the bone. She left behind a calendar and a pen, cracked from Sarah’s grip. 

 

On the calendar, Sarah had gone over every day obsessively, repeatedly, counting and recounting and recounting again, marking the numbers in her notebook, under columns labeled  _ David  _ and  _ Les _ . 

 

Les had left voluntarily nearly two months before David’s draft letter had come in. Sarah hadn’t wanted him to leave, but he was young and still felt like he had something to prove and she couldn’t hold him back. 

 

Katherine threw away the calendar, but Sarah just bought a new one. 

 

**57 days**

**22 days**

 

It was the end of May. Maybe early June. Sarah couldn’t think in terms of months. Only in the days since the halves of her heart were dragged across the sea. Nothing she did seemed to matter. Every dress she stitched together in her sewing room, every shirt she sold to a rich person for a ridiculous price, everything she did seemed pointless. Not when her brothers could be dying. 

 

At breakfast, Sarah grew restless. 

 

“I want to leave” she said suddenly. 

 

Katherine wiped her mouth. “Let me guess, Santa Fe?” she asked dryly. 

 

“No,” Sarah shook her head. “No, I just want to go - somewhere. For the day. Out of here, where all I can see is how many men there aren’t.” She looked to Katherine. “Can we go on a drive?”

 

“You want me to take us over to Brooklyn?” Katherine offered. 

 

“No,” Sarah repeated, closing her eyes. She thought back, to her childhood, before Les, before America, just her and David running wild in a bright field with other kids their age. She wanted to be that free again. “Somewhere far.” She needed to go.

 

Katherine paused. “I think I have an idea.”

 

She didn’t elaborate, simply telling Sarah to read for an hour while she organized a trip. 

 

Sarah had enough time to flip absentmindedly through exactly nine books before Katherine called her to the car. 

 

The ride was silent. Sarah felt like she blinked and all of a sudden they were there. 

 

There being the beach, not one with the city looming in the background, but one with white sand and gentle waves and groups of birds cawing softly. Sarah had never cared for beaches, really, she hated reminders of the sea that brought back such difficult memories, but the salty breeze calmed her pounding heart. 

 

She closed her eyes.

 

“What’s going through your mind?” Katherine asked, her voice low.

 

Sarah breathed deeply. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if they don’t come home.” 

 

Katherine rubbed her back, letting her arms draw slowly around Sarah until they were glued together. Katherine’s chin was sharp against Sarah’s shoulder. “I understand.”

 

And Sarah knew she did understand, because Katherine’s own brother had boarded the ship of all ships that hit an iceberg and sunk, five years prior. There was no doubt in her heart that if she really did lose a brother, Katherine would be steadfast by her side. 

 

“I just feel so… not in control,” Sarah said, opening her eyes. “I’ve been the responsible one since Mom died. I’ve been the one they turned to for years. But both of them are out where I can’t protect them, and I hate it.”

 

“They’re strong boys, they’re coming home,” Katherine promised, her voice a whisper in Sarah’s ear. “I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t believe. You helped raise some of the most talented, determined, strong men I have ever met. They won’t let themselves be overrun.”

 

A pause. 

 

“I can’t imagine what it’s like out there.”

 

Sarah’s eyes were stuck on the waves, rolling in and out, in and out, the tide growing closer and closer to their feet with every crash. The water was chaotic. What was Les thinking, sailing across the ocean for a conflict he knew so little about? All he wanted to do was prove himself. What was David thinking, sitting with the grown up versions of people he had really only known as teens? All he wanted was to be happy. 

 

It was so unfair that her boys were the ones carted away. Sarah had no frame of reference to understand the hardships they would face. 

 

Standing in front of the vast ocean, Sarah all of a sudden felt very small and very alone. She was insignificant in the face of war. 

  
Then, Katherine squeezed her arm, and she shook back to reality. Letting herself let go of the terrible fear clutching her heart, Sarah took stock of the afternoon. It was a picture perfect afternoon, sky stretching on clear for miles and miles. The blue was all they could see. 

 

“Let me buy you ice cream.” Katherine stepped away from Sarah. She held out an open palm. 

 

“I’d like that.” Sarah took her hand. 

 

They wandered to a more populated area of beach and stopped at the first ice cream stand. Katherine bought a cone of chocolate. Sarah let them dump a scoop of vanilla into a paper bowl. They ate in silence. The cold of the ice cream refreshed Sarah’s emotions. She felt loose.

 

“We all take life for granted,” she said. 

 

“I think so,” Katherine nodded, “but I don’t think we have to.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean that we don’t have to live like we have forever. We can live like tomorrow is our last day here.”

 

“That’s not enough time,” Sarah said, but she was smiling. “I think I’d like to write a novel someday. Can’t do that if I die tomorrow.”

 

“I see your point.” Katherine grinned. “I want to learn to sail.” She leaned back in her seat, squinting at the sky. “Wouldn’t that be cool?”

 

It was one of those moments in their relationship Sarah adored. There was nothing that they couldn’t discuss. Even with all her worry and fear, Katherine was steady. Sarah felt like she could fly away. 

 

Katherine met her eyes. “Hey. When I’m with you, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

 

Sarah stared back. “Me too.”

 

The sun set over the horizon. They talked, they stared absentmindedly at the view, eyes following how the sky stretched on for forever. The world was peaceful.

 

Sarah loved Katherine, but in her head, she still heard the numbers.

 

_ Twenty four, twenty five, twenty six… thirty nine, forty, forty one… eighty one, eighty two, eighty three. Eighty three days. Twenty two days.  _

 

She still wanted her family back. 

 

**58 days**

**23 days**

 

Sunlight grazed Sarah’s thighs. She was back at home, waking up slowly in her and Katherine’s bed. She smiled. 

 

The trip to the beach had soothed her. Sarah sat up, feeling like she was flying high up in the air and the sun was shining down right on her face and not just catching the edge of her leg. She reveled in the sensation. 

 

Sarah floated through the day. No work, no responsibilities, just coffee and toast for breakfast and thick sandwiches and cake for lunch and an afternoon cup of coffee by the window with a real book and just-

 

_ knock knock knock.  _

 

Sarah took a breath. She counted to five. She answered the door. 

 

Her biggest fear hadn’t come true, there weren’t uniformed men outside telling her that her family was gone. 

 

But someone else’s fear  _ had  _ come true. 

 

Amanda was on the porch. David’s Amanda, who Sarah didn’t know the new last name of. The Amanda she hadn’t seen in years. 

 

She was crying. She was holding a letter, the paper yellowed but the envelope was that same crisp white that David received his draft in. 

 

Sarah felt the ground give way. Her spot, high in the clouds, sun on her skin, peace in her heart, vanished. All so suddenly, she was on the ground, going numb. 

 

She looked around. All she saw was Amanda, still on her doorstep, still crying, still clutching her letter, still wearing the identification tags. 

 

Then, Katherine came. She came for Sarah. 

 

“Hey,” she said softly. “Invite her inside.”

 

“Amanda?” Sarah’s voice cracked. “Come inside.”

 

Amanda couldn’t move. Katherine eased her in. 

 

The only sounds in the living room were the sharp ticks of the grandfather clock and Amanda’s whimpers. Sarah couldn’t breathe. She felt twenty four again, watching her mother die. 

 

“He’s gone,” Amanda choked. 

 

Sarah remembered, some years ago, David telling her how he ran into Amanda’s new family with a husband and kids and it shook him to his core. She wondered where the kids were. 

 

“Do you need any help?” Katherine asked. “We’re happy to look after your kids or help any other way we can-“

 

“No,” Amanda said. “No, I-” She paused to sob. “I can’t do this.”

 

Katherine drew Amanda into her side, guiding the woman to cry in her shoulder. “Anything you need.”

 

Sarah held Katherine’s hand, their grasp hidden under the pillow. She stared straight ahead. They stayed in silence for what felt like forever, letting Amanda cry.

 

“Okay.” Amanda scrubbed a hand down her face. She sat up. “I can do this.” She took a deep, trembling breath. “I just missed you guys. And I couldn’t stop thinking about David out there. My Alexander was strong. He didn’t doubt he was coming home.” 

 

Sarah gulped. 

 

“David’s fine,” Katherine assured, looking more toward Sarah than Amanda. “He’s coming back.”

 

“Let me know when he does, alright?” Amanda asked. “I’d just like to see him.”

 

Sarah agreed, because how could she not? Amanda was heading home to the empty house Sarah was terrified of. 

 

Amanda stood, suddenly. She dusted off her dress. “I have to go home,” she told them. “I have to see my kids.”

 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Sarah offered. She immediately regretted it. 

 

Amanda looked to be seriously considering her offer and Sarah kind of wanted to die but then she just shook her head. “I have to tell them. I have to be alone.” She closed her eyes. “Thank you, both of you.”

 

And she was gone. Sarah blinked, and Amanda had vanished and Katherine was sitting down on the couch next to Sarah like she was a deranged cat the found in an alley. Carefully. Nervously. 

 

“Everything’s okay,” Katherine told her. “It wasn’t David. It wasn’t Les.”

 

“Everything’s not okay,” Sarah spat tearfully, suddenly feeling hostility build up in her chest. She fisted her dress and let tears darken the green. “My brothers could die any day. Nothing is ever going to be okay.”

 

She stalked off, not caring how childish she was. 

 

Nothing would ever be okay. 

 

**63 days**

**28 days**

 

_ June 2, 1917 _

_ David, _

 

_ We miss you dearly. I wish you were here. It’s hard without you and Les. I’m the only Jacobs in New York right now. _

 

_ Nothing much is happening, but women are marching in the street for the right to vote. Katherine keeps being sent to report on it. It’s not all in New York, either. She’s going everywhere lately, so I’ve spent a lot of time alone. It’s okay though, she’s reporting on a good cause. _

 

_ Albert wrote us, he and Race are alright. No word from Elmer or Spot. I don’t see anyone other than Katherine much. Amanda came over recently. Her husband died. It’s scary to think about getting a letter about you or Les. It was weird seeing her, too. I hope knowing her husband died doesn’t make you too upset. I know you still care for her happiness. I think I’ll check on her later. _

 

_ Write soon, _

_ Sarah. _

 

_ June 2, 1917 _

_ Les, _

 

_ It hasn’t even been two months but I still miss you so much. I hope you and David have seen each other. I need you to look it for him. I know he’ll look out for you. _

 

_ I got your letter a few days ago! I would have written back sooner but Katherine and I have been busy lately. We went on a trip to the beach last week. It was nice to get out of the city, _

 

_ On a more serious note, I want you to stay safe. I need you to be careful out there. You’re my little brother. It sucks not being able to protect you from this. The only thing I want is for you to come home. _

 

_ Write whenever you can!!! _

 

_ Love, _

_ Sarah. _

 

**68 days**

**33 days**

 

“I’m worried about you.” Katherine folded a pair of pants.

 

“You don’t need to be.” Sarah sighed. “Don’t forget an extra travel dress.”

 

“It’s already packed. I’m just afraid you’re going to wallow the entire time I’m gone.” Katherine zipped up her bag. “You’ve been so sad.”

 

“I’ve been fine.”

 

“You’ve been sleeping in far too late.” Katherine left her bag to stand by Sarah, tracing a gentle finger down the side of her face. “I know you miss them, and I know you’re worried, but I want you to be okay.”

 

Sarah lifted her hand to press it against Katherine’s, reveling in the warmth against her cheek. “I promise you, I am.” But she knew it was a lie.

 

Because really, how could she be okay? Sarah’s mind was consumed with her brothers; at any given moment she was thinking of if they were okay and when she would get that inevitable knock on her door, that inevitable visit to tell her she was the only one left.

 

Katherine knew she was lying. Sarah could see it in her eyes, that sadness that stayed there, that worry shining through.

 

“I’ve set up a lunch for you,” Katherine said, and Sarah dropped her hand. 

 

“With who? A doctor? I don’t want that, Katherine.”

 

“I know you don’t,” Katherine soothed. “Alana is coming over.”

 

“I can’t cook.” Sarah wanted to pace, she wanted to grab at her hair, but she stayed still as a rock in front of Katherine. “I can’t go out.”

 

“I know that too, darling.” Katherine pulled Sarah down, sitting on the edge of their bed. “Angelo is here, he’s going to cook, and you and Alana are going to talk. I know she’s missing Albert just like you miss David and Les. It’s going to be good for you.”

 

Sarah rested her head on Katherine’s shoulder. “I wish you could stay.”

 

“I wish I could too. This is a terrible time for us, but the suffragettes aren’t going to stop because of a war.”

 

“You’re so noble.” Sarah turned her head, pressing her nose to Katherine’s neck and breathing deeply. God, she loved this woman. “I’m really proud of you.”

 

“I love you too.” Katherine rested her head against Sarah’s. “I hate leaving.”

 

“It’s for a good cause.”

 

“I’ll miss you too much.”

 

“Shut up.” Sarah blushed. After a moment of warm, comfortable silence, she spoke up. “Thank you.” She could barely hear her own voice.

 

“For what, darling?”

 

“The lunch. Alana. Angelo. Everything.”

 

“Hey.” Katherine moved so Sarah had to lift her head and they were looking each other straight in the eyes. “I’d do anything for you.”

 

Sarah had to swallow her pounding heart. 

 

_ Knock knock knock. _

 

Katherine grabbed Sarah’s hand before the panic could set in. “It’s the driver,” she said. “It’s just the driver. I have to go to D.C. now.”

 

“Kiss me.”

 

Katherine kissed her, slow and long and deep, and then she had to go. Sarah didn’t want her to go, but she feared that if she said it one more time Katherine would do something drastic like actually cancel her trip and all that would do was add guilt to the anxiety already coursing through Sarah’s blood.  

 

“I love you,” Katherine told her again. “Take a bath before lunch.”

 

“I love you more,” Sarah said. “Go have fun. Go support our women.”

 

And she was gone.

 

True to her word, Angelo was cooking away in the kitchen. Sarah never really talked with him; he spoke in short, gruff sentences that gave the vibe he didn’t want to be talked to.

 

“Lunch ready soon,” he told her. “I set table, then go home.”

 

“Thank you, Angelo.”

 

Alana knocked on the door a little after noon, but Sarah didn’t panic because she was smart and spent the whole morning by the window watching, waiting for when Alana would come. She stood silently by the door for a moment, creating a false pause of her coming to the door from somewhere else in the house. She didn’t want Alana to know she’d been wasting her time for so long.

 

“Alana!” Sarah swung the door open, plastering on a smile, only partially fake. She did adore Alana.

 

“Sarah!” 

 

Sarah saw her own emotions reflected in Alana, the high strung stress of anxiety and everyday terror, and thought maybe she wasn’t alone. 

 

“Thank you for coming! Katherine didn’t tell me about this until today, sorry the house isn’t very tidy.”

 

“It looks lovely, as always.” They hugged, briefly. “How have you been holding up?”

 

“It’s been a tough month,” Sarah said honestly. “Knowing they’re out there is scary. How have you been? And how are the kids?”

 

“Oh, you know James misses his favorite teacher.” Alana tried for a sly smile. “But he misses his dad too. We all do.”

 

“Me too, James.” Sarah bit her lip. “Well, I think Angelo’s all finished with lunch, we can go see what he’s made.”

 

For a while, they ate in silence. Alana commented on how crisp the grapes were in their salad. Sarah dropped her fork after biting into a bone. Angelo never pulled the bones out. It wasn’t until dessert, small strawberry cakes with a dusting of sugar and a dollop of cream, that Sarah found it in her to speak up.

 

“It’s actually been really hard. They’re all I can think of.”

 

Alana swallowed her cake. “Me too,” she said, almost too quiet for Sarah to hear. “I don’t think I can handle this.”

 

Sarah didn’t know how to respond. She finished her cake. “Do you have anywhere to be tonight?”

 

“My mother is watching my kids,” Alana said. “I can stay.”

 

“I don’t care that it’s noon. I need a drink.”

 

An hour later found them next to an empty bottle of whiskey and glasses knocked on their sides. Sarah and Alana sat next to each other on the floor of the living room, leaning against the couch, their legs spread out over the carpet. Alana had tied her red hair up into a bun, but it had fallen half loose. She was crying.

 

“Cathleen is barely three. She doesn’t even know her dad. James doesn’t have anyone to look up to.”

 

Sarah rubbed Alana’s back. Her hand moved on autopilot as the alcohol controlled her. “I understand completely, it feels like everything is so out of place and the world is so… so…” her hand slowed as she concentrated on finding the right word. 

 

“Empty,” Alana supplied, wiping her face roughly. 

 

“Empty,” Sarah echoed, her voice as hollow as her heart. “It all feels so empty.”

 

“I don’t get the point,” Alana wept. “The war is pointless. We have no reason to be involved.”

 

“Les wanted to prove himself.” Sarah slid so she was laying on the ground, staring at the ceiling. The white paint formed a pattern and swirled in her vision. “He thought the war would make him a hero. He’s always felt like a burden.”

 

“Albert’s always been terrified of disappearing on his kids. His dad walked out one day when he was a teen, you know, just left him and his brothers. They never saw him again, and Al said he never wanted our kids to feel so abandoned.”

 

“David has health problems and I know he’s so disappointed with his life that I’m afraid he’s not going to do his best to come home.”

 

The thing was, even though Alana wasn’t responding to one thing Sarah said, no apology, no condolences, Sarah didn’t feel like she was competing for the spotlight. She didn’t need to respond to Alana and she didn’t need Alana to respond to her. Just talking out her feelings, her fears, her regrets, getting them all in the open to someone who genuinely understood in a way Katherine couldn’t, felt so  _ so _ good. Sarah was stuck in her emotions. 

 

“We’re a mess aren’t we,” Alana said, and she started giggling. Soon, the tears on her face came from laughter rather than sadness. “Here I am, drunk on a Tuesday, crying on your floor.” She looked down to Sarah. “I really needed this.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“This should be a regular thing, don’t you think?” Alana said. “I feel like every week brings new challenges. I’m not going to feel better forever.”

 

“I bet other people would benefit too.” Sarah propped herself up on her elbows. “I know Sofia, Elmer’s wife. We could get together some friends, maybe track down some wives or sisters of old newsies. I know the boys would appreciate the familiarity when they’re home.”

 

“Al kept in touch with some, uh, I think he called them Small and maybe a Snipers? They go by Sally and Jane now. They at least know our boys.”

 

“Do you know Spot and Race? They come to visit every now and then. I know Spot’s sister Gracie. They’ve always stuck together so she must be struggling.” Sarah sat up all the way. “I think we should do it.”

 

“Just all get together?” Alana smiled. “We can use my house.”

 

“We can alternate,” Sarah offered. “So it’s not always on you.”

 

“Do we want to do Saturdays?” Alana asked. “I know I have church on Sundays.”

 

“It’s the Sabbath on Saturdays, I couldn’t really do anything.” Sarah twisted her mouth. “We could do Mondays, maybe for lunch?”

 

“I guess it is summer so there will always be children.” Alana shrugged. “My mom is always here to look after them.”

 

“So next Monday, your house first?” Sarah stood up.

 

Alana stood next to her, stumbling with the movement. “It’s a plan then.”

 

Oh boy, Katherine was going to be  _ so  _ proud of Sarah.

 

**74 days**

**39 days**

 

“I am so proud of you,” Katherine gushed.

 

Sarah smirked to herself. “I knew you would be.”

 

“Angelo made biscuits for you to take. Do you want me to walk you?” Katherine smoothed the sides of Sarah’s dress. Her touch was electric. “Anything you need.”

 

“I’m not fragile,” Sarah reminded her. “I know I haven’t been myself, but I think this will help.”

 

“I  really am proud,” Katherine repeated. “I adore you.”

 

Sarah kissed her cheek, and then her lips, and then her lips again as Katherine pulled her back in. “I have to go now, Kath.”

 

“Okay. Okay.” Katherine stepped away. “You go to Alana’s. Good luck, I love you darling.”

 

“I of course love you back.” Sarah smiled. “Bye.”

 

It was hot. The sky was startlingly blue, a deep but light shade that filled Sarah’s heart with a confusing kind of joy. With the gentle breeze, the blooming flowers, the singing birds, Sarah’s soul was being healed, but she could still hear the mantra of numbers in the back of her mind over the sounds of summer. 

 

_ Thirty eight, thirty nine. Thirty nine. Seventy two, seventy three, seventy four. Seventy four.  _

 

**81 days**

**46 days**

 

“What time did you say they’re coming over?”

 

“Everyone made it by 12:30 last time. We have a half hour.”

 

Katherine ran her fingers through her hair. Her forehead was sweaty. “Alright.”

 

“Do you think we’ve done enough?” Sarah asked. Her voice was quiet.

 

“I hope so.” Katherine sighed. “We should probably go through and look for more pictures.”

 

Sarah bit her lip. “I really don’t think any of them will look so hard into it.”

 

“No, I’ve met Martha and Sofia before, Sarah, they’re so religious. They’d rat us out.” Katherine closed her eyes. “Maybe not rat us out, but I don’t trust any of them like that yet.”

 

“I understand.” Sarah took Katherine’s hand. “You go check on Angelo, I’ll look for more pictures and anything incriminating.” She squeezed their hands together. “I love you. This is going to be fine.”

 

Katherine kissed her. “I believe you.”

 

A week before, Sarah had walked to Alana’s house and sat with half a dozen women in the exact same boat she was stuck in. Eating and talking with people who understood her so completely was refreshing. It was her turn to host, but she and Katherine realized the obstacle of not everyone would support two women dating. They rearranged furniture, moved half of Sarah’s clothes to the closet in the guest room, took down pictures, removed any evidence that they lived together for any reason other than friendship and ease. 

 

Sarah hated rearranging her house. Wandering through the halls, the walls were too bare without the multitude of photographs Katherine had framed. Only pictures of the Pulitzer family and the Jacobs family remained, but they were sparse. Most of their families were gone. Sarah stopped and stared at an old family photo of hers. Taken right after high school graduation, everyone was dressed up and happy. David was smiling. Les was shorter than her. Both her parents were there. 

 

From the kitchen, there came a clatter. Sarah wanted to go check on Katherine, but she knew better. 

 

Hiding her sexuality had long been a struggle for Katherine. As a woman in love with another woman, she often expressed her feelings of vulnerability and fear. “Anyone could decide my presence alone is a sin and just get rid of me and nobody would care,” she’d tell Sarah. “Both of us are in so much danger all the time.”

 

But Sarah would soothe her, kiss her worries away, hold her until she didn’t care about the scary realities of the world anymore. Sadly, with all the bustle of the day, Sarah knew she wouldn’t get an opportunity to help Katherine until much later. 

 

“Angelo made cookies,” Katherine said, walking up to Sarah. “Coffee is brewing, and he’s starting on a cake.”

 

“Angelo is trying to get us fat,” Sarah joked. 

 

“He’s just making what I tell him.”

 

“Then you’re trying to get me fat,” Sarah said, a sly glint to her eyes. “What’s with all the sweets?”

 

Katherine stepped forward and plastered herself to Sarah’s side. She was looking at the photograph too, how young and naive everyone was. This was the Jacobs family Katherine knew first. The one she missed. “If nothing else in the world is going to be good to you, at least I can be, and at least Angelo can make your favorite cake. It’s the least I can do.”

 

Sarah leaned her head against Katherine’s. “Thank you.”

 

“I wish I could do more.” Katherine wasn’t looking at the picture anymore. Her eyes were locked on a nail in the wall, a faded square of wallpaper that once held a picture of the two of them. “I hate feeling so helpless.”

 

“You’re doing more than enough,” Sarah promised. “I’m never happier than when I’m with you.”

 

A knock on the door.

 

Sarah didn’t tense up so tightly anymore. 

 

Sarah kissed Katherine. “We’re just friends right now,” she said. “But just for right now.”

 

“We’re friends,” Katherine echoed. “But just for right now.”

 

**90 days**

**55 days**

 

_ June 28, 1917 _

_ Dear Sarah, _

 

_ Hi!! I know it’s been a while since I wrote home. We’ve been really busy lately. My company is taking a bit of a break in France, more in the countryside. There’s this tiny little town we’re near, so the boys and I go up for drinks and food when we don’t want what’s at camp. Of course, Germans can attack at any moment, but we’re not taking this time for granted.  _

 

_ My partner is a guy named Marcus. He’s pretty cool, from Virginia instead of New York. He wants to come stay with us for a bit once the war is over. He’s never seen a big city. _

 

_ Okay, I’ve been stalling. I met a girl. She lives in the little town, and I’ve only known her for a few weeks, but I swear I love her. Her name is Geneviève, and yes, that line over the e is supposed to be there. She put it there herself. I don’t know what it means. _

 

_ We call her Genny for short, but she only likes it when I do it. Remember when I said I didn’t understand how people could get hung up on just one person forever? That’s how I’m going to be with Genny. She’s promised to come with America for me. We might live in France. We might live anywhere. I really do love her. _

 

_ I can go on for too long. I don’t want to do that for you. I hope you’re well, and have you heard from David?  _ __   
_   
_ __ Write back,

_ Les _

 

_ July 14, 1917 _

_ Dear Les,  _

 

_ How lovely to hear from you! I just got the letter you sent in June, about stopping in France. Oh, and about Geneviève! (Did I draw the line right?)  _

 

_ I’m happy you’ve found someone. I will say, you do have to at least come home once before starting your adventure with her. I would like to meet her if you say you love her. She has to be great.  _

 

_ Unfortunately, no word from David yet. I’m worried of course, but nobody has sent me anything about him being hurt or dead, so I trust he has to be alright. You know David, he wouldn’t make time to write a letter in between his moody sessions of solitude. He’s probably the biggest bummer in the army. As always, if you hear from or see him, tell me, and tell him to write me back! That old man needs to work with me.  _

 

_ Katherine and I have been meeting with friends who also have family in the war. Talking to them is really interesting, seeing just how much they understand how hard everything is. You’ll have to meet a lot of women when you get home, don’t let Genny be jealous.  _

 

_ I love you. Be safe. Write back whenever you can. _

_ Sarah. _

 

_ July 14, 1917 _

_ Dear David, _

 

_ Hey goop, write me back. _

 

_ Les met a girl in France. Her name is Geneviève. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll come back with some handsome French man just like Les. I’ll have to be jealous that my Katherine is from America and not somewhere fun.  _

 

_ Just in case she reads this, Katherine, you are so much more fun than a French girl.  _

 

_ Anyhow. I miss you dearly. I do wish you would write me back. Just once. You’re hurting my feelings.  _

 

_ I’ve been talking more with Alana and them. Sophia, Gracie, Martha, you know. Smalls and Sniper too, they go by new names now. You know all of them. We all have someone overseas. See, they like to read the letters their boys send, so we can all get an update, but I very rarely have anything to read. If I do, it’s from Les. You’re really just embarrassing yourself.  _

 

_ I hope that guilt trip works and I get a letter soon. I miss you. Stay so so safe. _

 

_ Love, _

_ Sarah _

 

**95 days**

**60 days**

 

The photographs had been taken down. The guest room bed had been messily remade. Angelo was clanging away in the kitchen. It was another Monday, another meeting at Katherine and Sarah’s. 

 

A bit after noon, people started trickling in. Alana was always first, then Jane and Sally, Sofia always acted like she was late, running in frazzled, then Martha would come with her tray of raspberry cookies, and Gracie was always last. Kamila always came in right after Sofia because they would leave at the same time but Martha didn’t care about being late.

 

However, Sofia walked in, then Martha, then Gracie, and no sign of Kamila. “Should we wait?” Jane asked. “Did she tell anyone she wasn’t coming?”

 

“Everyone, sit down,” Sofia said. Her voice was high pitched and nervous. “Kamila won’t be coming anymore.”

 

“Why not?” Martha asked. “Romeo was excited to hear I was talking to Specs’s wife.”

 

“That’s it though…” Sofia trailed off. Sarah knew what was coming. “Specs died.”

 

A hush fell over the group. Katherine immediately made eye contact with Sarah, worried about a meltdown, but Sarah wasn’t sad. She wasn’t anything, really. She couldn’t be anything. Specs was gone. 

 

Specs was gone.

 

The Specs who was so inherently good natured that everyone loved him. The Specs who David loved to read with. The Specs who married Kamila and had twin daughters with. The Specs who couldn’t be a dad anymore. Kamila was all alone.

 

“We should do something for her,” Martha said, and she was crying. “Romeo and Specs were close.”

 

“I don’t know if I can tell Elmer,” Sofia confessed. “It’s Specs.”

 

Jane and Sally were holding on to each other, and Sarah wanted more than anything to be holding on to Katherine the same way, but she couldn’t. She could only sit on her stool, thinking of Kamila with her teenage daughters who no longer had a father. 

 

It didn’t sink in for a while, not really. The women sat in their circle and talked for hours longer than usual. Alana had to call her mother to tell her she’d be later than usual. Losing someone from the group was a shock, because how could it happen to them? How could it happen to Kamila? To Specs? If he could die, why couldn’t any of their boys? 

 

Were David and Les lying dead in a battlefield just like Specs?

 

Sarah couldn’t help but feel selfish. 

 

Later that night, after Angelo came back to make them dinner, after Katherine called cabs for their friends to use, after they cleaned off the table and hung the pictures back up, Sarah finally broke.

 

Katherine broke right with her.

 

“I knew him,” Katherine wept. “I knew him so well. Whenever I went to visit Jack, Specs was always there to welcome me. He never let me feel uncomfortable.”

 

“He was so good to David,” Sarah sniffed. “He was one of the educated ones, someone who David could go and talk to about books or math or science or whatever smart shit he was into.” 

 

“Kamila must be devastated,” Katherine said. Her voice was empty. Sarah could see a reflection in her eyes, an echo of a big blue ship with a gleaming invincibility, an iceberg ripping her family to pieces. Sarah liked to forget Katherine’s loss, but it had only been five years. Only five years. 

 

“She’s strong,” Sarah said, desperately wanting to assure Katherine that their friend would be alright, but the words were empty. Kamila was strong, but Specs was gone, and their kids had no father. 

 

Anyone could be next. 

 

**102 days**

**67 days**

 

Kamila’s seat stayed empty.

 

Sarah always dragged it out, put it in its place, hoping Kamila would come back and heal with her friends, but every time, Sofia walked in alone. 

 

“She says she’s just not ready,” Sofia would tell them, voice anxiously trembling. “She misses us, but she has to focus on her daughters.”

 

“I get it,” Sally said. “A distraction is good. I’ve gotten a job at a factory, you know. We make bullets and guns to send out. It makes me feel like I’m helping, and I don’t have to think about Abraham so much.”

 

“A factory?” Sarah sat up straight. An idea formed. “Are they still hiring?”

 

Sally laughed. “Sarah, factories are always hiring.”

 

“You’re right.” Sarah bit her lip. She looked anywhere but at Katherine. “I haven’t had so many dresses to make lately. I could take a factory job, just to help out.”

 

“Are you sure?” Alana asked. “Factories are a lot different than sewing.”

 

“Sarah knows all about factories,” Katherine said dryly. She sounded angry. “You know I have  more money than I know what to do with.”

 

“It’s not for money, really,” Sally interjected. “Not for me at least. It pays alright, but I really like the idea that I’m making a difference.”

 

“Yeah, Katherine,” Sarah said, her voice teetering on sarcasm, “I could be helping.”

 

“I’ll talk to my manager,” Sally offered. “He’ll want you to start as soon as possible.”

 

“I can start whenever he needs me.” Sarah smiled. 

 

“You’re on your own with that one,” Gracie scoffed. “I did my time in a factory.”

 

“Sarah did too,” Katherine said, still angry.

 

“I can speak for myself, you know.” Frustration built up in Sarah’s chest. “I’m going to work at this factory.”

 

Sally glanced between the two. “If it’s a big deal…” she trailed off. 

 

Katherine rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She stood up and angrily began collecting empty dishes. “Talk to your manager. I don’t care.”

 

Sarah found she didn’t really care either, not as Katherine stalked off to the kitchen, leaving an awkward atmosphere in the living room. “She’ll get over herself.”

 

“It’s cool that you’ll be helping out,”Jane interjected. “I wish I could work with you guys, but I gotta watch after my kids, y’know?”

 

“Watching your kids is helping,” Martha assured her. “Your husband would want you all safe and comfortable.”

 

“I don’t have any kids to watch.” Sarah sighed. “I always feel so helpless just… sitting here.”

 

“I get it.” Gracie smiled sadly. “I really don’t have a way to help Sean or Tony while they’re out there. I just… can’t go back to a factory, not after what I went through.”

 

Sarah understood too. She understood why Katherine was so mad, and why Gracie couldn’t imagine going back. Sarah had torn herself apart time and time again in those endless hours at a machine, but the familiarity would be a comfort, and she could finally feel like she was helping.

 

“It’s really not that bad,” Sally said. “Sarah, I think you’ll like it. Putting this stuff together feels so right, and I like to think…” She paused, embarrassed. “Don’t make fun of me, but I like to think that maybe Abraham will get one of the bullets or guns that I work on. It’s a comfort that maybe he’ll be using something I made, and that it could help him out.” She shrugged. “It just works for me.”   
  


“That’s adorable,” Gracie squealed. “I’m sure they’re helping him. And all our other boys, too!”

 

David using a bullet she made. Les using a gun she made. Sarah grinned. She couldn’t wait to start. 

 

Katherine never came back from the kitchen, and Sarah wanted to check on her, but there was still a pit of resentment in her chest, Katherine putting up such a public fight that could completely blow their cover. She looked at Alana, and Alana seemed to understand her turmoil. 

 

“I’m going to refill my cup, in the kitchen,” Alana told the group. 

 

Sofia looked to Sarah, after Alana left. “What was all that, with Katherine?”

 

Sarah rolled her eyes. “She’s just mad because I used to work in a factory and had to stay for long hours. Right after my mom died, when David was sick and we didn’t have any money. I’m not twenty anymore.”

 

“I don’t want to cause any problems,” Sally said, worriedly. “If she’s mad about you getting a job…”

 

“She won’t stay mad,” Sarah promised. “And she won’t be mad at you.”

 

“If you’re sure.” She nibbled at her fingernails. Jane slapped her hand away.

 

“Bad habit,” she reprimanded. 

 

Sally sat on her hands. 

 

Alana came back in. Alone. Sarah swallowed. 

 

“Katherine’s doing the dishes,” she said. “She wants to talk to Sarah.”

 

Damn. 

 

In the kitchen, Katherine was elbow deep in the sink full of soap, scrubbing plates and muttering angrily to herself.

 

“I hear you want to talk to me,” Sarah said casually, leaning on a counter. “Why’d you have to storm out like that?”

 

Katherine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Sarah expected her to yell, but when she opened her eyes, a tear rolled down her cheek.

 

“Baby.” Sarah was immediately at her side. “Katherine, stop it.”

 

“I don’t want us to fight,” Katherine said miserably. “But I really don’t want you working at that factory.”

 

“Katherine please.” Sarah pulled her soapy hands out of the sink and squeezed them. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

Katherine squeezed her hands right back. “You have to be careful.” 

 

“I promise.” Sarah kissed her. “I promise.”   
  


**107 days**

**72 days**

 

Less than a week later, Sarah had broken her promise. 

 

Once Sally talked to her manager, Sarah came in and was taught how to work in the assembly line putting together bullets to be shipped out in mass quantities. Sitting at her one spot, screwing pieces together endlessly, twist, twist, twist, twist- it was easy to get lost. Her first day was longer than Katherine wanted, and from then, she stayed even longer. Six hours. Eight hours. Ten hours. Twelve hours. Sarah left earlier and came back later and Katherine gre restless.

 

Fifteen hours. 

 

“It’s Saturday,” Katherine told her, tone bitter. “You left before I woke up. On Saturday.” She was sitting in a chair from the kitchen, moved to be in view of the door. 

 

“It’s not a big deal,” Sarah dismissed her, hanging up her coat. “I just got wrapped up in my work.”

 

“In what work?” Katherine asked angrily. She stood up. “It’s one thing when you spend too long on a commission, it’s an entirely different thing to be making bullets for fifteen hours. That’s ridiculous.”

 

“I couldn’t ask for a day off so soon into having this job,” Sarah said, crossing her arms. “I’ll be off next Saturday, but I had to stay today.

 

“But fifteen hours?” Katherine asked. She scrubbed  hand down her face. “You told me you’d be careful.”

 

“I have been!” Sarah protested. “Look, nothing’s wrong with me.” She held out her arms, twisting to let Katherine see not a scratch on her skin. “I’m just fine.”

 

“You’re working too much.” Katherine said. “You have to work less.”

 

“Oh, I  _ have _ to work less?” Sarah was taken aback. She stepped away from Katherine. “You can’t make me do anything.”

 

“I can and I will.” Katherine stepped toward her. “You have to work less,” she repeated.

 

“I’m not dealing with this right now,” Sarah said, throwing her hands up and stomping out of the room. Her heavy footsteps rattled the bookshelves, and when she slammed their bedroom door, one of the pictures on the wall fell off. 

 

It was an old picture of the Pulitzers, from before Joseph died. Katherine was young and stiff. Her brother stood tall behind his mother. Sarah hung it up in a huff. 

 

Katherine walked in right after her, swinging the door open violently. “You need to grow the fuck up right now,” she snarled. “Sarah, you’re being self destructive. We don’t need money and we don’t need you busting your ass for no good reason.”

 

“It’s not for no good reason,” Sarah spat. “I’m helping my brothers, okay? They’re still out there. They still have a chance.”

 

“Them living or dying has nothing to do with you,” Katherine said, her volume teetering on yelling.

  
Sarah was suddenly filled with a flash of white hot rage. Something cruel in her jumped out. “I know it’s hard for you to understand now, but my brothers are still alive. You don’t have any brothers left to lose, do you? Let me worry about mine while I still can before I forget about them like you did.”

 

Katherine reeled back. Her eyes were wide. She stepped backwards. Then again. Then a stumble. The she ran out of their bedroom, down the hall, down the stairs, maybe even out the door, but Sarah didn’t follow. She swallowed the guilt of her words and went to bed. Katherine wasn’t there when she fell asleep, and she wasn’t there when she woke up. 

 

**108 days**

**73 days**

 

When Sarah woke up alone in bed, she realized she had screwed up badly the night before. She wanted to kick herself. Yelling at Katherine like that? Insane. 

 

Sarah did find her eating breakfast, just a slice of toast. “Hey,” she started.

 

Katherine didn’t look. 

 

Sarah sat down. “I’m sorry about last night,” she finally said. “I immediately regretted what I said. I wish I could take it back, but I know I can’t.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I love you.”

 

Katherine still didn’t look at her. 

 

“It was a low blow,” Sarah continued. “You only have my best interest in heart.” She took a deep breath. “I realize I have been destructive in how much I work, and I’m going to make an effort to cut back. I’m going to talk to the manager soon and set up a more reasonable schedule.”

 

Katherine finally looked up. “I really didn’t like what you said.” Her voice was cold. “That was unnecessary. But,” she sighed, and smiled a little. “I’m glad you’re going to work less.”

 

“It’s what’s best.” Sarah wanted to reach out and hold Katherine’s hand, but she knew when Katherine needed space. “I love you.”

 

Katherine really did smile this time. “I love you too.”

 

They were going to be okay. 

 

**109 days**

**74 days**

 

Monday was normal. Sarah called in “sick” to the factory. Normal. Katherine took the pictures off their walls. Normal. Angelo cooked their lunch in the kitchen. Normal. 

 

Lunch was normal. Dessert was normal. Chatting was normal. The mailman dropping letters through the slot in the door was normal. 

 

What wasn’t normal, however; was the crisp white envelope that dropped through and caught Sarah’s eyes. She went to check the mail, and-

 

“It’s a letter,” she said suddenly, interrupting the conversation in the room. “From the army.”

 

“About what?” Martha asked. “Is it from David or Les?”

 

“I don’t know,” Sarah mumbled. “I don’t think it’s from one of them.”

 

“Open it,” Alana said. “With us.” Her voice was gentle.

 

Sarah met Katherine’s eyes.

 

Sarah carried the envelope to her seat. Her hands shook. Alana nodded her on, so Sarah ripped it and let the paper tumble open. 

 

_ Dear Sarah Jacobs, _

 

_ On behalf of the United States Military, it is with great sorrow that I deliver the bad news of Major Les Jacobs. _

 

_ On Thursday, July 19, 1917, Major Jacobs played an essential role in an attack against German forces. Since then, he has not reported his location nor wellbeing to anyone. Therefore, he has been declared Missing In Action. _

 

“Holy fuck,” Sarah said, suddenly, loudly and didn’t care about how Gracie and Sofia flinched. “Shit.”

 

She tried to read the rest of the letter, she really did, but her brain whited out her vision and her stomach swirled and her head hurt and and and---

 

Where was she?

 

“You’re in our room.”

 

Who was speaking?

 

“Sarah, baby, it’s Katherine. Come on.”

 

I can’t breathe.

 

“I can’t breathe,” she choked out. “Katherine, I can’t, I can’t-” 

 

Katherine started counting. “One, two, three, breathe in with me angel, four, five, six, seven, breathe out, eight, nine, ten...” 

 

_ One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, one hundred and nine, one hundred and nine. One hundred and nine days. This is where it ends. _

 

**110 days**

**75 days**

 

The smell of coffee woke Sarah up. Katherine was next to her, a steaming mug in hand, and one sat on their bedside table.

 

“Good morning, angel,” Katherine whispered. “How do you feel?”

 

Sarah shut her eyes again. All she could remember was crying. Hours and hours of endless violent weeping. “Not good,” she answered. “Did yesterday really happen?”

 

Katherine didn’t answer. Sarah opened her eyes. She found her answer in Katherine’s expression. 

 

“Shit.”

 

“It’s just been a day,” Katherine said. “You have time to come to terms.”

 

“I don’t want to come to terms with it.” Sarah sat up. “Give me the coffee. I don’t want to accept that-” she stopped talking, and gulped down her coffee. She never finished her sentence. 

 

“That’s alright,” Katherine reassured. “You have time.”

 

“Can I just go back to sleep?” Sarah asked miserably. “I can’t deal with this.”

 

“Alana called and asked if you wanted to have lunch today,” Katherine said. “I told her probably not.”

 

“I can’t go anywhere,” Sarah whined. “I have no idea what to do with myself.”

 

“Well, Sally is telling your job about this, that you’ll miss days, and I don’t have any reason to go into work today, so yeah, you can go back to sleep if you want.” Katherine shrugged.

 

“How does Sally know what happened?”

 

Katherine frowned. “You read the letter out loud,.”

 

“I did?”

 

“Yeah, and then you cursed a lot.” Katherine huffed a laugh. “You know how Gracie and Sofia are so religious. They were so shocked."

 

“Oh my-” Sarah flushed and buried her face in her hands. “I really did that.”

 

“You did.”

 

“This is so humiliating.” Sarah tipped her head back. “I hope I didn’t offend them.”

 

“Everyone understood,” Katherine promised. “This is hard to deal with.”

 

“I guess.” Sarah sunk back down until she was prostrate again. “I need a nap.”

 

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Katherine said. She began stroking Sarah’s hair. “You’ve got all the time.”

 

Sarah started the familiar count in her head, months of memorized numbers over and over again, David at  _ sixty seven, sixty eight, sixty nine… seventy three, seventy four, seventy five days  _ and Les at  _ eighty one, eighty two, eighty three, ninety six, ninety seven ninety- wait, eighty five? Eighty six? No, one hundred and five, one hundred and six, one hundred and what? Ninety two? Ninety three? How many days? _ __   
  


She couldn’t keep track. The numbers jumbled in her mind and she fell asleep distraught and confused. 

 

She dreamt of Les, running out of time. 

 

**78 days**

 

Sarah was tired. God, she was so tired.

 

Tired of crying, tired of sleeping, tired of mourning. Tired of feeling numb. 

 

On the first Friday after receiving The Letter, Sarah went back to work. After calling in sick on Monday, she had completely blown off her position. Honestly, the manager probably didn’t even notice or care; she was one woman in a busy factory. Unfortunately for her, missing so many days put her on his radar. 

 

“Ms. Jacobs.” The manager stared her down, and Sarah felt like she was twenty five looking Mr. Davis from her own factory in the eye. She felt her fingers tremble, and twisted her hands together to stop the shaking. 

 

“I had to miss a few days of work for personal reasons,” she said. “My brother was reported missing in action.”

 

The manager sighed and adjusted his glasses. “Missing in action.” He rolled his eyes. “Ms. Jacobs, if I let every woman who found out her brother or husband or father died have a break like yours, I’d never have any workers. This is war, not elementary school. You cannot take days off whenever you feel like it.”

 

“I-” Sarah reeled back. “I mean, alright, I guess. I won’t miss any more days.”

 

“I’m going to keep an eye on you,” he told her. “It only takes one weak link to break a chain and we have too much to lose.”   
  
Sarah’s heart felt heavy because she knew she was really the wink link, but what was the alternative? She had to help. She had to work, she had to do  _ something. _

 

_ I do this for them. I do this for them. _

 

The monotonous twist, twist, twist, of her minuscule role in the assembly line started the familiar beat for Sarah to repeat. She did this for David, still out there fighting for his life, and for Les, whether he be dead in a mass grave or captured in an unthinkably terrible place. Sarah twist, twist, twisted her way through the day until lunch when the bell went  _ ding _ and the machines slowed. 

 

The manager walked up to her as she unpacked the sandwich she had hastily assembled in the morning, trying to leave before Katherine could stop her. 

 

“Ms. Jacobs.” His thin lips pressed together. His tall and thin stature created a skeletal shadow that made Sarah’s insides churn. “We need to talk.”

 

“About what?”

 

He held out a handful of mangled bullets, tips loose and gunpowder spilling. “About your work.”   
  


“Did I do that?” She asked. “I didn’t do that.”

 

“These all passed through you,” he said. “We have to scrap all your work from today because the bullets are dangerously unstable and could explode before being fired.”

 

“I swear I didn’t do that.”

 

He sighed. “Who else would have?”

 

“I mean…” Sarah bit her lip. “I don’t know. I’ll do better.”

 

“I’m afraid I cannot count on you ‘doing better.’ After today, we have no need for your services.”

 

Sarah’s heart dropped. “You’re kidding.”

 

The manager’s nostrils flared. “Ms. Jacobs, this is war. There is no room for sloppy work. I cannot let you continue to endanger our troops. After today, you’re done.”

 

And he left, stalking off and slamming the door to his office. Sarah was left with her sandwich falling apart on her lap, her heart broken, her dreams of maybe making a difference shattered. She couldn’t do anything right. An unrighteous anger bubbled in her stomach. 

 

Later that night, under the dim light of a candle on her desk, Sarah wrote a letter. Her hands shook as the pen scratched on the paper. Silent tears streamed down her face. Katherine was already asleep. 

 

_ August 6, 1917 _

_ David, _

 

_ How dare you. I mean, honestly. I cannot believe you actually are putting yourself in this danger. What the hell are you thinking, fighting in this war? It’s so pointless. _

 

_ You need to come home right now. I’m serious. I’m so fucking mad right now, why did you have to run off and ruin my life? How inconsiderate do you have to be? You know how it felt when Les left and you decided to do this to me again? How dare you? _

 

_ Do you know how easy it is to avoid the draft? Do you remember Ruth? She and her husband Eric are slackers and took off down South and he didn’t have to go anywhere. You could have stayed home or gone anywhere else! Anywhere safer! _

 

_ When you get home, we’re having a talk. This war has ruined everything. I have nothing going for me and I can’t do anything right or well. Nothing I try actually works. Come back. _

 

_ Please.  _

 

_ Your sister, _

_ Sarah _

 

**79 days**

 

_ August 7, 1917 _

_ David, _

 

_ Shit. From the bottom of my heart, I am so sorry. Honest.  _ __   
_   
_ __ I really screwed up yesterday. Katherine tried going to the post office for me but the letter had already gotten too far. What’s usually a rich-partner perk turned into a curse. I hope you get this letter just as swiftly. 

 

_ I miss you a lot. We all do.  _ __   
_   
_ __ I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Les has been reported MIA. I got the letter a few days ago. He went in a battle and nobody has seen him since. Dealing with that has been tough. Katherine didn’t want me to tell you, but I think you deserve to know. I’m really stressed and really worried. Please come home as soon as possible. 

 

_ Sally (you’ll remember her as Smalls) got a job in a factory helping build war essentials and I joined to help make bullets but I’ve been so emotional that I messed up too much and was fired. I wrote yesterday’s letter with too much anger misplaced toward you. I’m really sorry. _

 

_ Write back soon! I still haven’t heard from you. _

 

_ Love you,  _

_ Sarah. _

 

**94 days**

 

Katherine sat at the kitchen table, typing away on her typewriter, just being a comfortable presence in the room as Sarah washed dishes. 

 

“...ninety two, ninety three, ninety four, ninety four days,” Sarah muttered, quietly, just to herself. She started over. “One, two, three…” She reached ninety four again, and started over. Then again. “Ninety four days. Ninety four days.”

 

Katherine paused her typing. She listened. “Ninety four days since what?” she asked, her voice soft. 

 

Sarah glanced at her, then busied herself with dishes again. “Since David left.”

 

“What about Les?”

 

Sarah closed her eyes and clenched her fists, hidden in the hot soapy water that filled the sink. She was shaking. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I can’t count.”

 

Katherine frowned. “Since when?” She walked to Sarah’s side. “Since you got the letter?”

 

“Since I got the letter,” Sarah repeated, nodding. She leaned onto Katherine. “I keep trying but the numbers, they just get so-- jumbled.”

 

Katherine put her arm around Sarah and squeezed her close. “Come on,” she said. “Forget the dishes.”

 

“What?” Katherine pulled her away. “Why? My hands are all wet.”

 

“We’re going to figure this out,” Katherine said. “Do you have one of your calendars?”

 

“Yeah, there’s one on my desk, but Katherine,” she forced them to stop, holding Katherine’s hand. “I don’t know if I can count.”

 

Katherine cupped Sarah’s cheek. “I know I didn’t get it at first, but I know counting helps. Knowing the days helps you. You still know David’s, right?”

 

“I do, but…” Sarah bit her lip. “David still might come home. Les…” She trailed off. “I don’t know.”

 

“Sarah Jacobs,” Katherine said. “I know you. You need hope. You thrive off of expecting the best to happen and that’s something you do that inspires me. You always have hope and I don’t want to see you give that up.”

 

“How can I have hope?” Sarah asked miserably. “How, when I know Les is out there, lost, dead, unsafe, unhappy, and David still hasn’t written me?” 

 

“You still have brothers to lose,” Katherine told her. Her voice was gentle and calm. “I know how it feels to lose hope. I promise you, believing in Les and hoping he’ll come home is better than wallowing in misery. We’re going to count those days.”

  
Of course Sarah had to agree, when Katherine threw her angry words from their fight a week before back at her. “Fine,” she said. “We’ll count.” 

 

They sat at Sarah’s desk in her sewing room, her calendar open, going through and numbering each day. Sarah felt her memorization of the days come back; June 4 was 50 days, July 24 was 100 days, and in the end they counted all the way to 129 days. Sarah flipped through the pages over and over, counting to 129,  _ one, two, three, four... ninety five, ninety six... one hundred seven... one hundred eighteen… one hundred twenty nine. One hundred twenty nine days. _

 

Maybe this wasn’t when it ended. There was still hope. 

 

**159 days**

**124 days**

 

_ To whom it may concern, _

 

_ We are writing this letter in September of 1917, sending it to the one New York address Jack has saved.  _

_   
_ _ We are Rosa and Jenny from Santa Fe. This is Rosa writing. We know a Jack Kelly and he is fighting in the war. He moved here years ago from New York and we found this address in the front of his diary and it’s the only one we can find. The reason we’re writing is that he hasn’t sent us anything and we’re very worried about him. He hasn’t answered any of our letters, but we hoped that maybe he had written to this address. _

 

_ Jack loved Santa Fe but he always missed New York and his old friends and we tried to get him to write to people he used to know but he always claimed that nobody would want to hear from him. Really, we’re hoping he took this war as an opportunity to reconnect because maybe this is the only chance he has. If whoever reads this knows and has heard from a Jack Kelly we would really appreciate a response. _

_   
_ _ Everyone loves him here, and we all miss him. Sorry if this was an inconvenience. _

 

_ Sincerely, _

_ Rosa and Jenny. _

 

Sarah leaned back in her seat. Damn. Damn. 

 

“Katherine,” she called. “Come look at this.”

 

Sarah closed her eyes as Katherine read. The letter was a shock to find, digging through the mail she had collected earlier that day. The kitchen was silent, save for the grandfather clock echoing from the living room. 

 

“How did Jack have our address?” Katherine asked.

 

“He probably just remembered the Pulitzer address,” Sarah said. “Maybe he knew this was the one house we wouldn’t move out of.”

 

“I didn’t even live here when he left, though.”

 

“Your dad did,” Sarah pointed out. “It makes sense. Weird that this was the only one though.”

 

Katherine set the paper down on the table. “Should we write back?”

 

“He hasn’t written to us.” Sarah shrugged. “I don’t think there’s any reason to.”

 

“I just feel bad for them.” Katherine rubbed her thumb across the two names at the bottom of the page. “He’s lived there for a long time and you know how people love him.”

 

“You know, I haven’t thought about Jack in a long time,” Sarah commented. “David hasn’t brought him up in a while.”

 

“It’s not really a loss, is it,” Katherine said dryly. “He’s not worth us thinking about him.”

 

Sarah felt the same, really, she had grown to loathe Jack and all his selfish actions, but the letter… the way those girls loved him… he obviously had some good in him if David could stay hung up for as long as he had. Sarah wondered if David missed Jack. Maybe they had seen each other, out on the battlefield. 

 

“I wonder if he’s dating one of them,” Katherine said. “I don’t know if I can imagine being so desperate to write to a random address just to find a friend."

 

“Maybe he’s dating both.” Sarah rolled her head to face Katherine. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

 

“Maybe he’s a father figure, though. You know he was like a Dad to half the newsies.”

 

“He’s old enough to be an actual dad.” Sarah picked up the letter. “What if they’re his kids?”

 

“She mentioned him moving there though,” Katherine pointed out. “Hey, did you notice she said he misses us?”

 

“He’s right that nobody would care to hear from him,” Sarah said, laughing a little. “I mean, an apology to David would be good, but I’m glad he didn’t send us anything."

 

“I don’t know what to think.” Katherine put her elbows on the table and rested her head against her hand.

 

“We don’t have to think of anything.” Sarah reached her leg out to hook a foot around Katherine’s. “Come on, we should go to bed.”

 

“What should we do with the letter?”

 

Sarah looked at it for a long time. Katherine waited patiently for a decision. 

 

“Let’s just throw it away. We don’t need it.”

 

So Katherine crumpled the paper and tossed it in the garbage pail and they went to their room. Even in the warmth of bed, Sarah’s mind drifted to Jack.

 

She truly had not thought of him in years. He was such an insignificant part of her life, yet he apparently meant so much to Rosa and Jenny that they needed to write to her to find him. She almost wished she had good news to send their way, but Jack wasn’t a part of her anymore. His influence led her to Katherine, and his way of life led her to Alana and Sofia and the other women she considered close friends, but him as an individual meant nothing.

 

Sarah finally let her mind drift to different thoughts, and she slipped asleep, dreaming of anything but Jack.

 

**170 days**

**135 days**

 

The knock on the door was more of a pounding. A terrible, angry pounding, paired with a shouting of Sarah’s name. She dropped the skirt she was hemming and ran to open it. 

 

Alana was on the other side clutching her stomach, her red hair a mess, her nose and eyes red, tears drawing tracks through her makeup and revealing hints of her freckles. Sarah had never seen her so distraught. 

 

“Sarah,” Alana gasped. “I can’t do this.”

 

She looked seconds from passing out. “Alana, come in. Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Sarah was desperate. She wished Katherine was home. “Sit down, you look like you could just fall over.”

 

“Oh, I can’t do this.” Alana sat on the couch and immediately curled up into herself. “Sarah, I’m pregnant.”

 

The first thing Sarah thought was, “Is it Albert’s?”

 

“Yes,” Alana moaned. “I’m around five months, the doctor says. Albert left four months ago.”

 

“Oh damn,” Sarah said. 

 

“I don’t think I can do this,” Alana said, and she started crying. “I already wrote him a letter. He hasn’t sent me anything in a while though.” She sniffed, long and wet and kind of disgusting. “What if he doesn’t come back? What if I have to look after James and April and Rebecca and Cathleen and then a newborn all on my own? Even if I wasn’t pregnant and Albert died I don’t know how I’d go on.”

 

“Alana, we’re all going to help,” Sarah promised. “I’m serious. Katherine and I are happy to help with looking after them, you know all I do is stay at home and sew, I’m always available to help. You have us and Gracie and Sally and Jane and Martha and Sofia and your whole family, I promise. You won’t be alone.”

 

“I’m scared,” Alana whispered. “I’m too old for another kid.”

 

“You’re already an amazing mother,” Sarah told her. “You’re the best. This baby is going to be so loved. You’re the strongest person I know.”

 

“Sarah,” Alana wept. “I love you. I do. You’re my best friend.

 

“You’re mine too.” Sarah got a little teary eyed. “I love you endlessly. You got this.”

 

Alana scrubbed her face. “This is so much to deal with.”

 

“I’ll deal with it all right with you.”

 

Sarah sent Alana home with a thermos of coffee spiked with a little liquor and cream, just to calm her down. “We’ve got this,” Sarah said as she loaded Alana into a cab. “You’ve got this.”

 

But honestly, part of Sarah didn’t believe herself. How could Alana do it?

 

Could she do it alone?   
  


**182 days**

**147 days**

 

_ October 14, 1917 _

_ David, _

 

_ I’ve accepted that you’re never going to write back. I just have to assume you’re still alive because nobody has told me otherwise. I hope you get my letters.  _

 

_ So, Alana is pregnant. She’s at least five or six months according to when Albert left. This is so nutty. She’s terrified, _

 

_ I don’t know if you’ve seen Albert at all out there. He’s written a few times, but not so much lately. Tell him that his wife is pregnant. Maybe he’ll write her if he knows. _

 

_ It’s awful to think of hearing that Albert is dead. I can’t think about it. If he dies, and Alana has to take care of all of their kids plus a new baby, all on her own, all while mourning… I don’t know if she’ll be able to. She’s much stronger than I. _

 

_ Anyway, I just wanted to send you an update. A lot is still happening while you’re gone. I still miss you a lot, and I know Katherine does too. Talk to Albert if you ever see him. I don’t know what kind of people you’re out there with.  _

 

_ Love you always, _

_ Sarah. _

 

**193 days**

**158 days**

 

Monday felt eerily familiar. On the walk to Alana’s house, Sarah kept saying to Katherine, “Something’s wrong. We’re about to get some bad news.”

 

At Alana’s house, as always, Sarah and Katherine were the first to arrive. Jane and Sally came in together as normal, Sofia rushed her frazzled self in, then Martha brought her raspberry cookies, and then they waited. And waited. And waited. And Gracie was nowhere to be seen. 

 

Martha ate half her cookies in anxious silence. Katherine and Sarah held hands behind a couch cushion. Alana was bouncing her youngest, a two year old toddler, on her hip, hushing her nervously. 

 

All of a sudden, Gracie burst in, no knock or anything. Everyone made to swarm her and ask why she was so late, was she okay, but Gracie wasn’t alone. Standing behind her was a man with shaved blond hair and bright blue eyes and a limp and there was something about his face that felt missing, like part of his skin had melted away, and it took Sarah far too long to realize he was Race.

 

Racetrack Higgins, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in Alana’s foyer.

 

“Tony came home.” Gracie’s eyes were bright and excited but something about her demeanor proved she was still upset. “Tony’s back, but he hasn’t seen Sean since they landed in France.”

 

Chaos erupted.

 

Sarah’s heart was torn; she was unbelievably ecstatic to see Race, even as scarred and sad as he was, but she was terrified for Spot and what his absence meant for Race. They’d been together for nearly two decades. 

 

Sarah turned to Katherine to find that the other woman was already looking at her. Neither could really imagine just not knowing where one of them was. Sarah was struggling this hard with her brothers gone, if it was Katherine lost in some foreign battlefield, Sarah would never keep her sanity. Race must be struggling.

 

Race did look extremely uncomfortable amongst all the chaos. Katherine went to his side and gently pulled him away from Gracie, who had turned to hug an excited Sofia. Sarah didn’t follow, not at first. She did her duty in rejoicing with Gracie, celebrating the one win of  _ someone is home _ . Nobody mentioned Spot again. 

 

“I need to feed him,” Gracie said, a tad out of breath. “Sarah, did you see where Katherine took him?”

 

“I’ll get them,” Sarah told her. 

 

They were in Alana’s guest bedroom, perched on the edge of the bed. 

 

“We were separated right in the beginning,” Race was saying. His voice was miserable. Sarah stopped in the hallway, peering in, invisible. “I haven’t seen him since the day we made it to France.”

 

_ One hundred fifty days. _

 

“Have you heard from him at all?”

 

“No.” Race sighed. “I couldn’t ask either. You know. People would get suspicious if I was too worried.”

 

“We’re going to find him,” Katherine said, fiercely. “I promise you.” Sarah hadn’t heard her so impassioned in weeks. 

 

“How?” Race asked. 

 

“I don’t know. But I do know I’d want help if it was Sarah. Of course I’m going to do whatever I can.”

 

Sarah’s heart swelled. She stepped in. “Hey.” 

 

Race looked up. “Hey,” he said. 

 

“Gracie wants to feed you,” she told him, sitting on the bed. “She seems really happy to see you.”

 

“She is,” Race laughed. “But I can tell she’s upset Spot ain’t with me.”

 

“We’ll find him,” Sarah assured, echoing Katherine’s promises. “But for now, how about we go and eat everything people have brought, alright?”

 

“It’s hard.” Race looked down at his hands in his lap. They were shaking. “Being back in public is hard. And-” he looked up. “Is Alana pregnant?”

 

Sarah nodded.

 

“Fuck.” He buried his face in his hands. “That’s awful. Imagine if Albert doesn’t come home.”

 

“We’re trying to ignore that possibility,” Katherine tried joking. 

 

“He’s coming home,” Sarah said with finality. “Albert, Spot, David, Les. They’re all coming home.”

 

“How do you know? It’s hell out there.” Race looked at her. “How do you know they’ll come back?”

 

Sarah looked to Katherine, to Race’s scared face, to his stiff jacket. “Because I don’t know what I’ll do if they don’t.”   
  


“Prepare yourself better,” Race told her, standing up. “I’m surprised I survived. I almost didn’t. They’re using the air against you out there.” he gestured to his face, the way his nose had shrunk and his lips had almost melted away. “Mustard gas,” he said. “It wrecks your skin, your lungs, and usually kills pretty quick. I was only exposed a second.” He shook his head. “Don’t be so sure they’re coming back.”

 

And that hurt, how blunt he was, but Sarah fixated her gaze on Race limping down the hall. 

 

“He’s upset,” Katherine said. “He misses Spot. He’s recovering.”

 

“I understand.” Sarah stood. “Come on, let’s eat.”

 

They went, and they ate, and they watched Race grow more and more comfortable with the company, and no matter how dangerous it was out there, Sarah knew her boys were coming home. 

 

**206 days**

**171 days**

 

It was supposed to be a good day. The results were in, the law was passed, and in New York, women could vote. 

 

Katherine was at some work event, reporters getting every bit of information on the politician and public reaction to the monumental law. 

 

But for Sarah, alone at home, it wasn’t a good day.

 

_ Dear Sarah, _

 

_ It’s so sunny here in France! We’re still on a bit of a break, and Genny and I have spent all our time together. I think we’re really something.  _

 

_ There are rumors going around that this break is ending soon, and that means leaving Genny and going back to fighting. I really don’t want to go back into combat. The trenches are horrible, people are always shooting, and the cannons make the ground shake and you know I’m already clumsy. I’ve fallen into so many puddles. I don’t want to go back. _

 

_ I’m trying to focus on Genny right now. At least something good is coming out of this whole experience. I wish you were here so you could help me do this right. I miss you so much and I can’t wait to come home. _

 

_ Tell Katherine I love her too! _ __   
_   
_ __ Love,

_ Les.  _

_ July 3, 1917 _

 

Sarah fell to her knees when she first saw the envelope, white and crisp, with her name scrawled on top in Les’s big, loopy handwriting. He was back.

 

But then. He wasn’t, because she noticed the date. Early July. She knew that Letter by heart, and Les… went missing… on July 19. Two weeks after his letter.

 

Sarah rested her head on the kitchen table and wept. Outside, she could hear cheers and shouts from women in the streets rejoicing their newfound freedoms, but inside, in her kitchen, all she could hear was the  _ tick tock _ of the grandfather clock and her own shaky breaths. 

 

Being reminded he was gone was hard. 

 

He was gone. 

 

**214 days**

**179 days**

 

November had never been a good month for Sarah Jacobs. When she was younger, she’d often wake up November 1st with a runny nose and a pounding headache and her mom saying, “Really, Sarah, I told you that it’s gotten too cold to play outside. Your jacket wasn’t warm enough.” She’d be forced to stay in bed while her brother and her friends went to play and spend time outside properly bundled up. Looking back, it all seemed so trivial compared to what she had gone through as an adult, but it set a precedent for the poor quality of the month.

 

Being in the month that her mother got sick was hard. Remembering those years ago, thirteen to be exact, when Esther got off that boat and went straight to bed, waking up with harsh breaths and a sweaty fever, remembering it always hurt. Sarah could close her eyes and picture herself walking home from her old job, only to find the house a mess and her mother trembling under the blankets, already half dead…

 

She shook the image away.

 

It was a day she’d decided to stay in bed for. Cold winds rattled the window. Katherine had come home from work early, grumbling about something unintelligible that Sarah didn’t have the energy to ask about. They ate a late breakfast together in bed like heathens, and Sarah found comfort in her girlfriend’s presence.

 

After they ate, Katherine broke the silence. “You know what’s funny?”

 

“What?”

 

“In Virginia last night, a prison ordered the guards to assault all the women inmates because they’re all suffragettes.”

 

“That’s not really funny, Katherine.”

 

“I know, but it is funny that they sent Steven, the newest reporter, to report on something related to suffragettes. That’s usually my job.” Katherine huffed. 

 

“Everyone needs experience,” Sarah offered absentmindedly. “He was chosen to get experience.”

 

“But nobody new is given out of state stories for at least a few months. He started a week ago. I think there’s a reason--”

 

“I want to visit my parents’ graves,” Sarah interrupted. She didn’t even notice that she cut off Katherine. “I miss my mom.”

 

Katherine swallowed audibly, but Sarah paid no mind. 

 

“Go see your parents then.” Katherine’s voice was tired. “Do you want me to go with you?”

 

“I’ll go alone.” Sarah climbed out of bed. Her legs felt wobbly. “Can I wear your coat?”

 

“Anything you need.” Katherine laid back and flung an arm over her eyes. “I’ll just be here.”

 

“I’ll meet you at Alana’s,” Sarah said. She got dressed quickly, minding her mother’s warnings from childhood and wearing Katherine’s thick coat.

 

It honestly wasn’t too cold outside. The sun was out, the sky was clear, and Sarah wished she wasn’t so sad. 

 

At the cemetery, she stood in front of a pair of graves. Mayer and Esther. Seeing the tombstones, tiny and faded, made a lump form in Sarah’s throat. 

 

So much had changed since their deaths. Sarah thought her mother would be proud of who she became. Mayer, maybe. 

 

“Hey,” she said, a bubble of tears choking her voice. “I miss you guys.” She sniffed. She sat on the ground, not minding how cold and hard it was, even through her dress. “I’m all alone out here.”

 

A breeze blew. 

 

“All I can do is think about how everyone is gone.” A tear hit the dirt. “How you’re both dead, how Les is missing, how David is out there. I’m all alone.” 

 

Sarah let her eyes follow a family, clad in black, walking further into the cemetery. She couldn’t look away. “Look at them,” she told the air, absentmindedly. “Going to visit a grave. All of them. They think they’re sad, but they don’t know what it’s like to really be alone.” She blinked out of her trance. 

 

“Ma, you remember Race, right?” Sarah asked. “He came back. But Spot, his best friend, didn’t come back with him. He’s pretty torn up. Kind of like David when Jack first left. Except-” she swallowed heavily. “You never really saw that, did you?”

 

God, how long had Esther been dead? Twelve years? A third of her life, no mother. 

 

“Nothing good ever lasts,” Sarah sighed. “You think you’ve found something, and then…” She shook her head. “All gone. Nothing left.” Another tear in the dirt. “Nothing is left.”

 

Sarah fell silent, her head whirling in a mess of numbers, repeated, repeated, again, again, again.  _ Two hundred fourteen. Two hundred fourteen. One hundred seventy nine. One hundred seventy nine. Two hundred fourteen. One hundred seventy nine. _

 

She walked to Alana’s house alone. Katherine was already there, always the first one. Sarah sat with her, wordlessly. 

 

“Are you okay?” Katherine asked. 

 

Sarah nodded. “I just said hi to them.”

 

“They’re watching over your brothers,” Katherine promised. 

 

“I know.” Sarah smiled at her, but all she could hear was,

 

_ Nothing is left.  _

 

**219 days**

**184 days**

 

Sarah got her first commission in a week. A newly widowed woman showed up at her doorstep, eyes glassy, money in hand. “I need a dress for his funeral,” the woman said. “I have to see his family. They think I’m cheap.”

 

“Come in.”

 

Katherine was out. The house was warm, and it was quiet. Sarah pulled out a roll of black fabric. “Any preference on the material?” she asked. 

 

“Anything,” the woman sniffed. She held out the money again. “Is this enough? I can get more.”

 

Sarah shook her head. “I don’t need anything.” She unrolled the fabric. “Let me get my measurements. If you want to stay, you can, but I just need the numbers. When’s his funeral?”

 

“His body is being shipped back.” The woman swallowed. “It should be back in a few days.”

 

“We have plenty of time,” Sarah said, smiling softly, but in her head…

 

_ His body is being shipped back. _ She’d never even thought of that. Les dying, his cold body loaded on a boat, the funeral having to wait days and days and days… all customs out the window. Sarah’s throat burned as she wrapped the tape measure around the woman. She couldn’t bear to learn her name. 

 

Inches and centimeters scrawled in her notebook. Black fabric pinned against a mannequin. Rows of lace lined up with the hems. Sarah had a lot of experience with funeral dresses. 

 

“It’ll be ready by Thursday,” Sarah promised. “Come back before noon on the twenty second.”

 

“I can do that,” the woman said. “Please let me pay you.”

 

Sarah smiled at her again. “I really can’t let you. Use that money on something you need more. I’ve got this covered.”

 

Just as fast as she came, the woman left, and Sarah finally had something other than crippling loneliness to focus on. 

 

**224 days**

**189 days**

 

“What do you mean you were fired?”

 

“I mean that I wasn’t getting  _ shit  _ anymore because I’m a woman and couldn’t handle anything,” Katherine spat. She slammed down her bag. “One argument with my boss,  _ one _ argument, and now I have nothing.”

 

“Hold up.” Sarah was so confused. “Have you been having a hard time?”

 

“Yes.” Katherine sat on the couch and plopped her head into her hands. She sighed. “It’s been forever.” Her voice was muffled by her hands. “I noticed I only got articles about women. I fought back. Now they can send anyone else to cover stories.” She dragged her palms down her cheeks and looked at Sarah. “Did you know, there was a bomb that killed nine people in Milwaukee, and my boss sent Steven to cover it? Again?”

 

“I mean, is that really something that would get a lot of attention here?” Sarah asked. She sat next to Katherine. “With the war, and the suffragettes, I can’t imagine that’s a big story?”

 

“It’s not, but it’s still a story.” Katherine laid her head on Sarah’s shoulder. “Sending someone to report far away is a big deal. They wouldn’t even give me stories  _ here _ and he was still sent. They’re using him on purpose.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and Sarah couldn’t look at her but she could feel the tears. “It’s just frustrating.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me work was hard?” Sarah asked. She ran a hand down Katherine’s back.

 

“I tried, but I didn’t want to upset you,” Katherine said. “With everything going wrong lately, I didn’t want to bring this on you when you obviously couldn’t handle it.”

 

“Baby…” Sarah trailed off. She didn’t know what to say. Guilt pulsed through her heart. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Katherine sat up, and rubbed her eyes. “I’m alright. It’s really not a big deal.”

 

“Katherine.” Sarah hugged her. Tight. She held on. She kept holding on. Katherine melted. “Katherine.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Sarah felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her heart restricted in her chest, but she didn’t pull away. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was your job. You were fighting the good fight.”

 

Really, Sarah knew, she herself had the most to apologize for. Over the last months she had been so preoccupied with herself, hadn’t she? No consideration of Katherine’s feelings. No asking her if she was okay. Selfish. So selfish.

 

But for how much Sarah wanted to reverse their position, nestle her head into Katherine and be told that she was selfless and sweet and lovely, that would just make her more selfish and to really be selfless and sweet and lovely she had to hold on. She held on. 

 

“I’m here for you,” Sarah whispered. “Forever.” She held on.

 

Katherine pushed her head closer into Sarah. They were practically one being, infused by pain and adoration and all they could do was hold on. “I’ve been holding on. For you.” Katherine said. 

 

They held on. 

 

Later that night, as snow started floating down from the dark sky and wind whipped the treetops until they creaked, Sarah built a fire and sat Katherine right at the edge. Since coming home, Katherine had been in a bit of a daze, moody and defeated by her lot in life. What a terrible thing, being a woman in the workforce, being a woman kicked out of the workforce. Sarah relished in her life of lounging at home, sewing commissions lazily, eating whatever wonderful thing Angelo made her. She couldn’t imagine life in the real world, alongside men who were ready to steal any opportunity from her.

 

“Drink your tea, darling,” Sarah murmured, voice low, as she fanned her small flame into something bigger. The orange of fire flickered, barely lighting the fireplace, but every stick brough the light higher.

 

As the fire grew, Katherine’s eyes reflected orange, red, yellow, anything but the soft brown Sarah was so used to. Katherine didn’t seem to blink. 

 

“Katherine.” Sarah’s tone was stern. “You need to drink it.”

 

“What’s the point?” Katherine’s voice was airy. “What’s the point of anything?”

 

Sarah remembered the summer, when she was asking the same exact thing, because really, what is the point? Why try and support your family when they’re all going to die anyway? Why work long hours at a job when men are going to steal it all away from you anyway? But Sarah had time to grow, and to heal, and watching her friends deal with death, and watching herself deal with the loss of Les in a way, it helped. There was a point, because if someone can come home, anyone, it’s worth it. If Katherine could write something, anything, it’s worth it.

 

“You love it,” Sarah said simply. She sat next to Katherine, pulling her practically onto her lap on their velvet maroon couch. “You love writing, and you love reporting. Remember back in ninety nine? When nobody wanted to publish you? All those vaudeville reviews?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Remember how you were taken seriously when you put yourself out there? When you pushed and made sure your article was published, and you saved the lives of countless boys?”

 

“I don’t think I saved  _ lives. _ ” Katherine sounded embarrassed, but it was an emotion, and Sarah was glad she was feeling. 

 

“You did.” Sarah stroked Katherine’s hair. “The refuge? Crutchie was stuck there. It was your writing and you pushing that let all that be published. You talked to the governor, you organized the strike, you saved those lives. It was all you.”

 

“I can’t take the credit,” Katherine said, but she was warming up. A small smile formed.

  
Sarah kissed her temple. “You know you did it all. You’re an incredible writer, and you do incredible things. This is just a setback. Someone else will hire you before you know it, or hey, watch your boss come crawling back, crying because you’re the one holding up the paper.”

 

“You’re too good to me.” Katherine took a sip of her tea.

 

“You’re too good for your job,” Sarah countered. 

 

Katherine closed her eyes. “I love you,” she murmured.

 

Sarah took the still full cup of tea and set it on the coffee table, careful not to jostle Katherine, who was quickly falling asleep. “Go to sleep, baby,” she whispered. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

Katherine fell asleep smiling.

 

**226 days**

**191 days**

 

Hanukkah was supposed to be fun, Sarah thought. It usually was. When she was a kid, with her parents alive and her brothers and the community of New York by her side, she found the utmost joy in those eight days of celebration. Even without her parents, David and Les brought with them so much comfort and love and family that Sarah never really felt the absence of her parents. 

 

But without her brothers, Sarah was alone.

 

The menorah was rusted, and the candles were too short. Rationing impacted every aspect of life. 

 

Sarah could barely light the first candle on the first night because her hand was shaking so hard the matches kept going out before the wick could catch flame. In the end, Katherine had to guide her hand and hold it still. The flame caught. They sat back and watched it burn. 

 

“My dad was Jewish,” Katherine told her, suddenly. “I don’t think many people know. But he was, and he raised us going to temple while my mom took us to church the next day. I never really… understood religion, I guess. I wanted to be as different from him as I could be.”

 

“How did I never know that?” Sarah asked. “After all this time?”

 

“I never brought it up, I guess,” Katherine sighed. “Joseph Pulitzer was a monster for most of his life and I hate thinking about him. I hate recognizing things in myself that I got from him. I hate writing for a living even though it’s what I’m passionate about.” She paused for a deep breath. “But the reason I’m telling you now is that I can help.” She smiled. “I’ve celebrated Hanukkah with my family and I’ve celebrated with yours. You’re not alone in these nights.”

 

Sarah wanted to cry. “I love you,” she said hoarsely. “So much.”

 

Angelo brought them out plates of latkes and jelly donut sufganiyot and even though they both tasted just a little off, not quite the same as when Les made them, Sarah was comfortable. 

  
Katherine wiped her hands on her dress, a savage act that always made the dressmaker in Sarah mourn, but she left the room and when she came back holding two picture frames, Sarah knew exactly what they were. On either side of the menorah, Katherine set up pictures of David and Les, professionally done for Sarah’s birthday the year before. 

 

“Now everyone is here,” Katherine said, sitting back down. “Next year we’ll celebrate it right together.”

 

Sarah hoped. 

 

**233 days**

**198 days**

 

All nine candles were lit. All nine candles went out. Sarah and Katherine ate dinner in silence. Sarah’s latkes had fallen apart in the pan, so they really just had hashbrowns with applesauce. 

 

“Do you want me to call Angelo to make us some?” Katherine asked. “These are good but I know how important tradition is to you.” 

 

“Les always made them,” Sarah told her, her fork smashing potato and apple together. “Mom showed him how. I’ve never been able to do it right, but he can.”

 

“Well then,” Katherine said, carefully. “Les can help you make them next year.”

 

Sarah appreciated the optimism. “Hopefully.”

 

“He will.”

 

The framed picture of Les stared her down. Sarah hoped that wherever he was,he knew how much she loved him, and she hoped he could be celebrating. She wondered if David had gotten to celebrate. 

 

Probably not. 

 

She should have celebrated for the three (well, the five) of them, but she could barely celebrate as one.  

 

The comfort from the first night had disintegrated with each candle Sarah lit alone. Katherine had her Jewish background but no knowledge and that connection didn’t really pan out. She missed her family. 

 

Sarah ended the holiday as a disappointment. 

 

**242 days**

**207 days**

 

There seemed to be a pattern. 

 

A pattern in that, whenever Sarah was anxious on the walk to Alana’s house, something big was about to happen. 

 

Alana was clutching a letter, her house still messy, her mother by her side, the kids running wild. Cathleen, the youngest, was wailing from her bedroom. Nobody seemed to care. 

 

“Alana?” Katherine asked. “What’s happened?”

 

“It’s a letter,” her mother explained. “It’s dated from almost two months ago.”

 

“What does it say?” Sarah almost didn’t want to know. “Is he-”

 

“He’s not dead,” Alana’s mother assured. “It’s just…”

 

“He’s hurt,” Alana said, her voice small. “He’s sick, and he’s hurt, and I was supposed to get this in October.”

 

Sarah peered over their shoulders, reading the all too familiar language of  _ we are sorry to inform you.  _ Albert was injured in some sort of way, not specified, no word on how hurt or if it could be fatal or if he could be sent home. No detail. Sarah’s heart clenched. 

 

Something she noticed- since becoming aware of her pregnancy, Alana always had a hand on her stomach. At nearing on eight months, her bump was incredibly noticable and even though the uncertainty brought by the baby, Sarah always felt warm inside at the thought that maybe the baby brought comfort. But Alana’s hands were on the table, one clutching the letter, one squeezed in a tight fist. Alana didn’t want to think of a world with her husband being hurt, with her new baby being born into a world without a father. 

 

“Well, there haven’t been any other updates, right?” Katherine pointed out. “You would know if he had died.”

 

“And it explains why he hasn’t written in a while,” Sarah said. “He’s too busy getting better.”

 

“Mom?” James poked in his head. Sarah couldn’t look at him. He was only twelve. “Cathleen won’t stop crying.”

 

“Has Rebecca tried playing with him?” Alana asked, tiredly. 

 

“Yeah, but it didn’t work.” James twiddled his thumbs nervously. “April wants to help but she doesn’t know how and she’s getting upset too.”

 

Alana closed her eyes. “Alright, baby,” she said. “I’m coming.”

 

Sarah wanted so badly to help, as Alana hauled herself up, waddling to where her toddler was crying. 

 

“Should we call the other girls to cancel?” Katherine asked Alana’s mother. “They’ll understand.”

 

“No,” the mom shook her head. “Alana loves these meetings. Once Cathleen and April are down for naps, I’ll look after them.”

 

Sarah and Katherine busied themselves with straightening up the house while Alana helped her kids. Jane and Sally came in, then Sofia, then Martha, then Gracie with a limping Race, and Sarah and Katherine had to fill them all in quietly as they waited. Race hung back in the group and no matter how much Sarah wanted to go comfort him, she couldn’t bear to hear him spit negativity about the likelihood of survival. 

 

Any semblance of conversation dropped when Alana walked back in. She leaned against the doorframe. “Cathleen is napping,” she said, exhausted. “We should stay quiet.”

 

“Of course,” Sofia said softly. “Come sit down, Alana.”

 

The group settled into their typical circle and they all loaded their plates yet after half an hour there were still piles of food. Nobody could really take a bite. 

 

“The nurses are really sweet,” Race said, out of the silence. “When I was hit by the gas, I had to spent a long time in the hospitals they have set up. It’s scary, but the nurses did everything they could to make my stay better. The best food is in the hospitals too.” He looked to Alana. “Albert’s being taken care of. Nobody wants him to die.”

 

Alana blinked a tear. “Thank you, Race,” she whispered. “That means a lot.”

 

“If they’ve sent a letter they won’t send him back out,” he told her. 

 

“Why didn’t I get a letter?” Gracie asked. “When you were hurt, I mean.”

 

“You’re just Sean’s sister,” he said, sadly. “I don’t have any blood family. There wasn’t anyone to send a letter to.”

 

The atmosphere was a little awkward, and Sarah couldn’t bear it. “I know it’s a little late, but I would’ve been your family. You’re family to David and I.”

 

“And me,” Katherine piped up. “I’m glad you’re back or I’d be worried about who to ask about you.”

 

“Thanks.” Race smiled to his plate.

 

Across the table, Alana sniffled. She was still crying. 

 

Sarah didn’t know how to fix this problem.

 

She didn’t have to ponder for long.

 

_ Tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap.  _

 

Alana sat up. 

 

James came thundering out of his room, eyes wide. He paused in the doorway, locking eyes with his mother. “Mom?”

 

Alana leapt out of her seat. 

 

“Alana,” Martha tried, stumbling out of her own chair to try and stop the very pregnant woman from running. “Slow down.”

 

There was no slowing her down, so the only thing Sarah could do was follow her. James swung the door open.

 

“I knew it was you!” he cried, and barreled into the arms of Albert, who stumbled back and dropped something long. 

 

“You remembered our knock, huh?” Albert laughed, clutching the door with one hand and his son with the other. “I missed you, buddy.”

 

Sarah bent to pick up what Albert dropped, finding a crutch, and that’s when she saw it. Or rather, the lack of it. The lack of a  _ leg.  _ Albert grimaced. 

 

“Don’t look at it too hard,” he warned. “It’s pretty gross.”

 

“Albert…” Alana’s voice was weak. She was leaning heavy on the door. 

 

Sarah gave Albert his crutch, and he hobbled over to his wife. His free hand reached out for her stomach. 

 

“I’m due in less than two months,” she told him, tearfully. “I guess I got pregnant right before you left.”

 

His mouth hung open, and then he started crying. “I love you,” he wept. “We get another one.”

 

“We do.” And she stepped in to hold him, and Sarah didn’t even notice him leave but James came running back in the room with his sisters in tow. 

 

All she could do was move out of the way and watch the family reunite. Katherine reached for her hand, and they locked fingers in secret. Albert was crying, Alana was crying, James and April were holding their younger sisters up to see their father better. They eventually moved to the couch, so Albert and Alana could sit, and the kids piled on, chattering away all different stories. Part of Sarah wanted to leave, to give her friends some privacy, but she really couldn’t go without at least speaking to Albert. 

 

Slowly, it got darker outside, and everyone but Sarah, Katherine, and Race left. Rebecca and Cathleen started yawning too much, and Alana and Albert had to put their kids to bed.

 

“I need to talk to you,” Albert told Sarah. “Don’t leave yet.” He turned to Race. “You either. I’ve missed you, man."

 

Sarah smiled to herself. The women bonded over the men’s absence, and the men would bond over their experiences. It was cute. 

 

“What do you think he wants to tell you?” Katherine asked. “Could it be about David or Les?"

 

Sarah’s smile dropped. Yeah, it could be. “I don’t know,” she said. “I hope it’s good news."

 

Race patted her shoulder. “It will be.”

 

She didn’t know what to think of his newfound optimism. “You’re not so negative lately, Race."

 

He shrugged. “I survived. Lots of people didn’t. I shouldn’t waste my second chance by being an ass.”

 

“That’s very noble.” Katherine smiled. “I’m proud of you."

 

“I’ve been talkin’ to Gracie a lot,” he said. “She’s really smart. She knows more about me than I do.”

 

Katherine nodded. “Talking it out is good for you. You and everyone else who comes back should talk together.”

 

“I think I’d need that,” Albert said, crutching back in. “I can’t imagine unloading shit on Alana, or anyone who wasn’t actually there.”

 

Race stood up. “Good job on making it out,” he said. Albert pulled him into a hug. 

 

“Any word on Spot?” Albert asked. “I haven’t seen him in ages."

 

“Me neither,” Race said, voice sad. “Hopefully soon.”

 

Albert clapped his back. It was a way of apologizing. 

 

“Sarah,” he said. “Boy.” 

 

“Am I going to like this?” she asked nervously.

 

“Not really.”

 

The world started to crumble in her vision, just like when she got that letter, just like when Les vanished- “Are either of them dead?”

 

Albert raised his brows. “Shit, no, sorry I shouldn’t have led with that.” He laughed. “David is alive. He’s alright. I don’t know anything about Les though. Davey’s good. Except…” he bit his lip. “He got hurt, then he got sick, so he’s been in the hospital for a while.”

 

“Hurt? Sick? How?” Sarah demanded. “I haven’t gotten any letter.”

 

“Because he ain’t gonna die,” Albert said. “Just that, someone else was hurt at the same time, and I tried to keep them apart but you know how crazy they are.”

 

Sarah’s stomach sank. “Who?”

 

Albert looked away. 

 

“Who?” She asked again. She had a sick feeling in her, like she knew who, like she didn’t want to know. “Who, Albert?”   
  


“Seems like you already know who,” Albert answered. 

 

“Oh God.” Sarah sank back.

 

“Who?” Katherine asked. She looked honestly confused, but the expression on Race’s face said he was on the same page as Sarah. “I don’t get it.”

 

“He found Jack.”

 

Sarah clenched her eyes shut. 

 

“Oh shit,” Katherine whispered. “And Jack found him?”

 

“And Jack ain’t going back to Santa Fe.” Albert nodded. 

 

“No,” Sarah said. 

 

“He coulda come back same time as me, but he decided to stay so he could talk to Davey.”

 

“No.” 

 

“This is gonna be rough,” Race sighed. “Jeez, I wonder how Davey’s feelin’ about it all.”

 

Sarah slumped further and further into the couch. “He’s gonna take him back in a heartbeat,” she groaned. “This really won’t be fun.”

 

Did Sarah even want David to come home anymore?

 

(Of course she did, but certainly she did not want Jack at his side.)

  
  


**245 days**

**210 days**

 

A knock on the door.

 

_ Knock knock knock. _

 

Sarah didn’t jerk involuntarily panicking, didn't race to the door, didn’t feel that terrible fear of not knowing who would be on the other side of that door and what news she was about to feel. Instead, she finished the last line of the paragraph in her book before standing to answer the door. The pause made her smile.

 

Growth. 

 

Nothing felt amiss about the day. It was normal. It was December. It was snowing. 

 

But when she opened that door… Sarah wished she still had the quick reaction time of panic. She cursed herself for reading that last line. It could have waited. But this… this…

 

“David?” she choked.

 

“Yeah,” David laughed, teary eyed, disbelieving. “Hey Sarah.”

 

“You’re home.”

 

She stepped in to hug him, to prove he was real, to solidify the fact that  _ David was home _ , but as she held him, she looked behind them.

 

All too suddenly, the warmth of his embrace melted into confusion and then utter frustration because-- oh shit. 

 

“Jack?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, the dates are accurate. i have a website bookmarked that tells me how far certain dates are, i didnt count all that. but day of week and month and even weather (yes i looked up the weather from 1917) is accurate. i put so much effort into this part that i have to flex it. 
> 
> i just have to flex again i have a gf now thank u love women and being a lesbian good night thank u for taking the time out of ur day to read this mess <3333333 xoxoxoxoxo

**Author's Note:**

> kudos + Comments are just the bees knees...
> 
> tumblr- newsboyz.tumblr.com :)


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